THE STELLER'S JAY

THE STELLER’S JAY

THE STELLER’S JAY

“The Shack” is a 2007 New York Times best-seller. The basis for the story is a grieving father’s transformative, spiritual journey when he receives a mysterious personal invitation to meet God at “The Shack.”  This book does not resonate with everyone. Those who allow themselves to go with the flow are well-rewarded. Most everyone who connects with this book thinks that it is about their brand of Christianity. The message of the book hit me so hard that I was disappointed when I learned that the author, William Paul Young, was not a member of my church. How could that be?  He had been singing my song. What he had written resonated with my own beliefs, albeit in a different costume. After struggling with this for several years, I concluded that most truth is not licensed or exclusive and is meant to be shared with those who have ears to hear. I'm afraid people who have brushed this book off or chose not to finish it because it conflicts with their versions of eternity have missed out. I have friends who could not read beyond the page where God is portrayed as a plump black woman in a red and white apron, cooking hotcakes on a wood-burning stove. What I saw in the book as amusing and heartwarming, they saw as something sacrilegious and offensive. Along that line of thought, I was swept away by the book and did not care for the movie. My own imagination had created something quite different than the movie. Funny, how two people can look at the same thing and come away with totally different impressions.

Without betraying the story of "The Shack," I will describe one episode that was particularly moving to me. Mack, the young grieving father, is learning to separate from his deep-seated hatred. A bluebird flies through the open window and lands in the kitchen and sits there, quietly looking at him. He contemplates letting go of his pain and learning forgiveness. When he realizes that he is harboring his pain and anger and must let his feelings go, the bluebird flies out the window. There is something scriptural about our problems being millstones, tied around our necks. I had a similar experience near the headwaters of the Jordan River in Israel walking on a streambed-pathway paved with old broken millstones. I imagined people dragging their millstones around for years, then leaving them behind when they learned to forgive themselves.

One early summer morning I found myself overlooking the Island Park Reservoir. I had taken a week off to spend at the cabin, following a particularly busy month where I felt the constant need to be in two or three places at the same time. After a night of uninterrupted sleep, I was again in charge of my time and starting to decompress. Most everyone else was still asleep and I was alone at the kitchen table. The glassy surface of the mirror-like emerald water reflected the lodgepole pines on the opposite shoreline. The quiet stillness was overpowering. I found Celine Dion singing “All the Way” with Frank Sinatra on a YouTube Video. As the beautiful music began, Celine waved to her husband in the audience. After the first verse, Frank appeared on a large screen singing the second verse. The diva and the long-dead icon finished a wonderful duet and the music stopped. Not wanting it to end, I played the video over again and again for about ten minutes. All of my stress and problems seemed to have just gone out the open kitchen window in front of me. Having recently completed my first reading of “The Shack,” I felt a strong connection to Mack's self-realization about releasing his problems and just letting them go. I turned to my left to look out through the window and about jumped out of my skin. A large blue Steller's Jay landed on the deck rail less than ten feet away. Rather than fly off he just sat there looking at me. I looked at him and he looked at me. Unlike other Steller's Jays that are skittish, noisy birds, this one sat there for over a minute, studying me through the glass, making me feel like it was looking into my soul. At least that is what I allowed myself to believe for the last 15 years. 

Today is a mirror image of that stunning summer morning I just described. To enjoy the fresh forest air, I went out on the deck and thought again about my profound, rare experience with a Steller's Jay. As I passed by the kitchen window, now looking in, I saw my reflection, but, in the early morning light, I could not see anything inside the kitchen. The Steller's Jay that didn't fly away had not been looking at me, it had been looking at its own reflection, and was not even aware that I was just a few feet away. Funny how things come to light when you reflect on them. 

Roger H. Tall, M.D.