I met a boy the other day. His name is Peter. He's about 9 years old. He has a sister named Sam, and a mom and dad. He's cautious, smart, quiet, wise. He reminds me a lot of my nephew. He loves science and he's going to discover the great world of bugs this summer. He will learn that life is not forever what it always was. He will discover that change is difficult and unsteadying. And he will learn that there is magic in the world - in the minutiae of creation, in the wonder of imagination, in the love of family.
One of the people who will speak into Peter's life this summer is a older man named Ben Palmer. I met Ben years ago when he was living a different story. He was in crisis then, and while that is behind him now, I know that much of what I learned about him during that time will be seen in his interactions with Peter this summer. He will be hard-nosed and he will be truthful. He will be deeply broken and utterly renewed. And he will speak words to Peter that "alert him to the power he was perhaps too afraid to hope was real."
Perhaps it is strange to you that I seem to know so much about Peter's future though I only just met him. Don't worry. This prescience isn't wrapped in hocus pocus.
I've had encounters like this before. I once met a young man named William, and before we finished our first meal I discovered he had a whole story to live before I was done with him. And suddenly the name William just wasn't right - not if we were to be spending a good portion of the next few years together. So decided to call him Edmund and he looked much more comfortable with that name.
In Peter, in Ben Palmer, in Edmund, I have the unique opportunity to see the past, the present, and the future all together. I'm fairly certain I know where they'll end up, but I'm not quite sure. You see, they all surprised me when they came calling at the corners of my imagination. They could shock me once again with a sudden departure.
It's an imperfect prescience. They're breathing and living within their own stories. I hope to paint the canvas for them as they take the journey they're on. But I don't yet know what every bump in the road looks like. They may trip and fall. They may meet friends and enemies who surprise me equally when they come knocking with their stories fully formed, reaching back and reaching forward.
I met a boy named Peter the other day. He trooped into my imagination whole-bodied, meditative, and staring at a blank spot on the fridge where there is no summer calendar while he ate his waffles smothered in real maple syrup.
I told you there was magic in this world.
Note: I wish to thank Sam Smith and Kristen Peterson, friends I met last year at Hutchmoot, for their contributions to Peter's existence and Ben Palmer's new story. Hope you don't mind that he's not called "Sam Peterson." You never know when your words will spark someone's imagination. See, I told you there was magic in this world.