theology in the subarctic

Truck Lights

Wintertime and very cold,
early afternoon but already dark.

I'm driving from Sombak'e (Yellowknife)
to Beuchoko (Rae)
in my fifteen-year-old pickup truck,
and a Dene elder askes me for a ride.

The land has taught the Dene
to live in a world of silence.

After ten kilometeres, Kolchia relects:
"Driving the truck is like having faith in God."

I'm trying to figure out what he means,
but after two kilometres I give up:
"Grandpa, you talked about driving and faith in God.
I'm not sure what you meant."

Kolchia turned slightly towards me:
"You started the engine and you put the lights on.
We could have said, 'We see only one hundred metres ahead.
Farther on, it's one hundred kilometres of darkness,
so we cannot go to Beuchoko.'
But you got the truck into gear,
we started to move,
and the lights kept showing ahead of us.

Must be the way with God, too,
who shows us only a bit into the future,
just enough for our next move.
If we are afraid and if we stand still,
we'll never see farther ahead.
But if we go with the little light we have,
the light keeps showing us the way on and on."

a poem by Fr. Rene Fumoleau
an Oblate of Mary Immaculate
in the far north