Just through the red door lies a mystical place where live the little known creatures, the ones the world looks upon as myth and legend.  In this realm, they live and breathe, just the same as you and I.  Journey with me through the red door, to the place of imagination and we will find a new dimension of reality.

The new day calls out with an invitation from those beyond the door.  It is they who wish to meet us and share their tales!

I hear Grandpa Ansel, a respected elder, greeting the new day, in his usual fashion.

“Hark noble ones of the realm!”

A crow circled above the clearing where Grandpa and a group of gnome children were gathering herbs for Grandma Elena, who had been very specific about what she needed for her home remedies.

As I entered through the red door, I saw Grandpa keenly observing the crow.  His brow furrowed, as he watched intently, forgetting his work.

“Are you tired, Grandpa?” Mathilda asked.

“No, child.  Why do you ask?” he answered.

“You’ve stopped your work.  You’re staring off in the distance like you’re expecting something, but there’s only a crow flying,” Mathilda explained.

“I am, at that!   It’s unusual for a crow to fly alone.  I can think of only one reason for a lone crow, and it worries me.”

“What does it mean, Grandpa?”

“Today, I think it means something may be wrong.  If my suspicion is correct, it may mean my brother needs help.  He lives far up in the hills, quite alone and he has a pet crow who seldom lets Gunder out of his sight.  If I’m right, and this crow is Iver, then something isn’t right.  Iver wouldn’t abandon Gunder if all was well,” Grandpa explained.

Adept at many bird calls, Grandpa cupped his hands around his mouth and called to the circling bird.  Again, and again Grandpa called, eventually hearing an answering call.  As the crow homed in on the source of the call, it stopped circling and changed its trajectory.  As Iver landed, Grandpa barked instructions to his young charges.  “Run quickly to Grandma Elena and ask her to pack some emergency first-aid supplies into a bindle.”

Approaching the bird cautiously, for crows are large and gnomes are not, Grandpa peered closely for the telltale broken bit of beak that would confirm Iver’s identity.   Sure enough, this crow was indeed his brother’s loyal companion.

Before long, Grandma Elena hurried into the clearing carrying a handkerchief tied to Grandpa’s walking stick.  Calling out as she approached, she hollered, “Ansel!  What’s wrong?  The children said you needed medicine.”

“I’m not certain, Elena.  This is my brother’s crow.  They are quite inseparable and Iver’s presence here leads me to believe Gunder may be in some kind of trouble.  You tend to the children while Iver and I go see to Gunder.”

Shouldering the bindle, Grandpa climbed onto Iver’s back.  With a powerful stroke of his wings, Iver had Grandpa airborne, while Grandma and the children watched in wonder.

A volley of questions erupted from the children and Grandma Elena had very few ready answers.  She kept her worries to herself as she marshalled the youngsters back to work.

The day wore on and Grandma kept an eye to the sky as she worked.  Eager as she was for a sign of Grandpa Ansel’s return, she carried with her a sense of dread, knowing Grandpa’s return could bring hard news.  Time crawled, but eventually Grandma saw a dark speck on the horizon.   Her wait was ending.

Sharply, Grandma called to Oden.  “Go to the garden and ask the men to bring a stretcher, please, Oden.”  Oden made haste to do Grandma’s bidding, the urgency of her voice spurring him on.

Iver’s landing was smooth and, in his beak, he carried Uncle Gunder in a sling made from the bindle cloth she had sent with Grandpa.  Grandpa scrambled down and guided Iver’s head to gently deposit Gunder on the ground.  Removing the body sling, revealing an injured Gunder complete with one leg trussed in a splint, Grandpa looked up into Grandma Elena’s worried face.

“He’ll be all right, Elena.  He’ll need to stay with us a while, but he’ll recover,” Grandpa stated.  No sooner had he spoken than the stretcher bearers arrived to carry Gunder to Grandma and Grandpa’s house.  Once inside, Grandma tended the wounds, most of which were minor cuts and bruises.  The polecat bite on the leg was deep, so Grandma applied a poultice of comfry and reset the splint.  To ease Gunder’s discomfort, she spooned some poppy elexir into his mouth and he laid back, closing his eyes waiting for the poppy to work it’s magic.  Relief came soon enough, thanks to Grandma Elena’s ministrations.

The evening bonfire was bright, illuminating Grandpa’s face which bore the strain of the day.  His countenance brightened as he welcomed the company of his brother, hobbling slowly with the aid of crutches.  Like moths drawn to a flame, the children materialized, knowing there was a story in the making.

The ever watchful Iver settled overhead in the tree branches, intent on not letting Gunder out of his sight.  Taking note of the bird’s presence, Grandpa Ansel said, “Draw near dear ones.  Gather close and hear the wisdom of age for you are just beginning and have much to learn.”

Turning to Gunder, Grandpa grinned and asked, “Perhaps you would like to do the honors today, brother?”

“I can do that!” came Gunder’s reply.

“What happened to you, Sir?” asked Oden.  Never having met Gunder, Oden was uncertain how the older gnome was to be addressed.

“I’m not a ‘sir,’ young man.  Call me Uncle Gunder, like everyone does.  I’m uncle to all and father of none!  What you see is the winning end of a fight with a pole cat!”  This met with a unified gasp, for everyone knew that the savage polecats had a taste for gnomes.  Uncle Gunder continued, “I expect he’d been stalking me for a while, but I hadn’t caught a whiff of him, being he was upwind.  That varmint ambushed me from behind.”

Eyes like saucers, the little ones waited silently for the rest of the tale.

“My arms were full of firewood when that brute clamped down on this here leg.  I heard the bone snap and figured I was a goner.  I can tell you, it made me mad.  Dropping my wood as I hit the ground, I grabbed my knife and fought for my life.  I knew it would be a fight to the death.  Trouble was, I didn’t know who was going to win,” Gunder continued.

“You are very brave,” stated Galf, his words full of admiration.

“I’m far from brave, young man.  There’s a difference between bravery and desperation.  I was as afraid as any gnome ever was.”

“But you fought.  If you were afraid, you would have run away, not fought,” Galf argued.

“Running wasn’t exactly an option, given my leg was broken, beside which, running is seldom a good choice. I fought my fear as hard as I fought that polecat!  I guess you know the end of the story, since I’m here, and all.”  All said, that was a long-winded speech for a gnome who tended to stick to his own company and Uncle Gunder had determined he’d said enough.

Stepping into the silence, Grandpa said, “We all know fear from time to time.  It’s as natural as breathing.   The day we stop experiencing fear is likely the same day we stop breathing!

Fear itself isn’t always a bad thing.  It always brings one of two responses, those being fight or flight.  A healthy fear will stop us from following a fool off of a cliff.  An unhealthy fear will send us into a panicked flight and we may well beat that fool to the edge of the cliff!

The key to handling fear is learning which is the best course of action.  Since Uncle Gunder couldn’t flee that polecat, his decision was easily made.  Had Gunder had a choice, he may have let a fear of failure stop him from facing off against that varmint.  You see, he had to try to defeat his attacker.  He may not have succeeded and may have died trying, but failure to try would have sealed his fate and guaranteed his failure.

Fear always works at convincing us we should not try.  One of life’s biggest hurdles is failure and we greatly fear failing.  To not try is to ensure failure.  In overriding our fear and trying at whatever we are afraid of doing, it gives us a glimmer of hope that we could succeed.  At times, the greatest opponent we face is fear itself.  Often, all that we want is just on the other side of our fear and so we must face it, head-on, and challenge it to a dual.  Sometimes we must do the thing while we are still afraid.  This is when we show our greatest courage.  Courage, you see, is not the absence of fear; it is doing the thing while in the grip of fear.  To lose our fear, we must find our courage. Success over a challenge only comes through courage.

References:

Isaiah 41: 13-14, (For I the LORD thy God will hold thy right hand, saying unto thee, Fear not; I will help thee. Fear not, thou worm Jacob, and ye men of Israel; I will help thee, saith the LORD, and thy redeemer, the Holy One of Israel.)

Mark 5: 36 (As soon as Jesus heard the word that was spoken, he saith unto the ruler of the synagogue, Be not afraid, only believe.)