A Healing Balm

Reverend Alistair Harris stood on the little bridge that crossed the pond behind the stone mill that had become his home. Leaning his forearms on the thin railing, he stared down into the dark, calm water, remembering the small koi pond Jenny had tended so carefully back in Tunbridge Wells. Jenny, with her untamable brunette locks, her long curls always falling over her forehead. His Jenny. It had been three years since she didn't come back from a trip to the market, three long years since the constable had come to the parsonage with word of the fatal wreck.

After that, after she'd so suddenly gone, he found himself needing a change and with nothing really to tie him now to England, had moved to Coffs Harbor where for the last two and a half years he'd been the pastor of a small non-denominational church just west of town. Then, a week ago he'd been approached by Bridgid Morgan, who invited him to lunch and talked at great length about the new community called the Glen that was rapidly developing in the country. He'd been interested enough to do a day trip out to see the place and been pleased with the peaceful atmosphere and beauty of the area. The church building was an absolutely classic, simple white structure with a steeple and plain glass, green-shuttered windows. He was quite taken with its utter simplicity.

When he accepted her offer to come and be the Glen's pastor, Bridgid had also offered him several choices for his residence. He had decided on the old stone mill, not the most practical, surely, but the most appealing to his heart. Jenny would have adored it.

So, here he was, standing on the bridge, with a whole new chapter of his life about to begin. He was 34 now and had never loved any woman but his Jenny. The thought of her still clutched at his heart but here, in this place, perhaps the waters of this pond would be a healing balm to his soul. He wanted more than anything to be able to feel the flow of that coming in to him so he could then pour it out to those given into his care.

A small fish broke the smooth surface, sending ripples spreading out. He watched it, thinking how we're all like the little fish, sending our ripples out, affecting everyone around us. He closed his eyes. "Lord, make all my ripples healing ones here in this Glen."  Then a cooler evening breeze picked up, ruffling his hair, and he went inside to make himself a peanut butter sandwich for his supper.