Here I am, once again,
I’m in need of resurrection,
Only You can take this empty shell
And raise it from the dead!
What I’ve lost to the world,
What seems far beyond redemption
You can take the pieces in Your hand
And make me whole again!
Resurrection, by Selah
“For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, says the Lord, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope.” Jeremiah 29:11
Disclamer: I do not own Star Wars or any of the characters therein, the are sole property of George Lucas. I do not own the song 'Ressurection' - it belongs to the CCM band Selah.
Qui-Gon Jinn was restless. Again.
Ever since his mission to Telos, 9 months ago, he’d been plagued with guilt, desperation, and discontent. And when he did sleep, he had nightmares. He would see the flames again. The evil glare in those midnight blue eyes. The broken circle, burned forever as a scar on Xanatos’ cheek, a malicious reminder of his Master’s failure. He would feel again the betrayal and hatred, like a stab to his heart, as painful and searing as a fresh wound.
Rising from his bed, Qui-Gon pulled a tunic over his head and settled in the middle of the floor. It had become almost a habit now, rising in the middle of the night from sleeplessness, or restless sleep, and meditate.
Closing his eyes, he sought the peace and calm that the Force offered.
These late night meditations were a form of therapy, a cooling salve for an aching and fevered soul. It was times like these that kept him going. He drew sustenance from his regular communion with the Force. And it had helped. His depression wasn’t as deep as it had been 9 months ago, when the blow was first inflicted. But he was still a recluse – if not physically, then mentally. He still went on missions for the Council, but otherwise rarely ventured out of his quarters. He no longer socialized with friends, or went to the training rooms to practice with his lightsaber. Instead, he ate in his quarters. He meditated and exercised in an empty room in his apartments that was set apart for such activities.
Taking a deep breath to help clear his troubled mind, he opened himself to the Force.
/Beloved, go and walk in the gardens; drink in the color of the plants. Feel the mist of the waterfalls on your skin. Visit the crèche, and look upon my youngest disciples; feel the contained energy, and desire to know Me. Absorb their zest for life!
You have been locked away for too long, my child, nursing your dead soul, ignoring the life and joy around you. You have deprived yourself of all I have in store for you, for too long, my son.
Qui-Gon’s eyes snapped open. Never before had he heard the Force speak so clearly! The power of it was strong beyond compare, yet gentle, like the hands of a mother cradling her infant.
Without hesitation, he rose and headed for the lift tube, riding it down to the Crèche level. There was a meditation garden not far from the youngling’s sleeping quarters.
He stopped once he stepped inside, taking in his surroundings. The artificial sky was black, dusted with a myriad of imitation stars, each in its’ correct position for the particular season. The vegetation swayed gently in the soft breeze created by hidden vents all over the room.
He took a deep breath, savoring the earthen scent. He hadn’t realized until now how much he missed this. He heard the sound of rushing water, and followed it to a small waterfall. The water made a musical sound as it flowed over the smooth stones, feeding a deep blue pool.
Forsaking the bench that was conveniently placed nearby, he sat on the grass, on the very bank of the pool, letting the spray mist on his skin. He closed his eyes, let himself feel the living Force that teemed around him in the rustling plants, the moving water, the grass beneath him. He welcomed it like a long lost friend.
He spent perhaps an hour by that pool, soaking in the feeling that was so familiar, but had been absent from his life for so long. He thanked the Force for bringing it back to him, made sure to remember this place, as a meditation spot.
He felt better, but there was still a dark shadow dulling his spirit.
At the end of the dimly lit corridor, he stopped before the door of the crèche, unsure. But at the prompting of the Force, he silently let himself in.
The room was he entered was a bedroom. Unlike the Knights, Masters, and Master-Padawan teams, the younglings all slept in one big room, the walls lined with plain, but comfortable beds. There was a larger bed, near the entrance, in amongst the youngest of the children, where the Crèche Master slept. The lighting in the room was all but non-existent – dark enough to encourage sleep, but not shadowy enough to frighten the young initiates.
Closing the door quietly behind him, he stood against the wall, marveling at the rich life, innocence and peace that filled the room of sleeping younglings. Here was the Force in one of its’ purest forms.
As he gazed at the group of resting children, he sensed a small, but powerful irregularity. Reaching out, he sought the source of the disturbance. He found it in a small, copper-haired human boy, clutching a ragged, plush nerf to his chest. Qui-Gon guessed the boy to be about 6, or close to it. The child was making a valiant effort to keep calm, but he was struggling. Despite this, he was amazed at the control this boy had over the Force.
He glanced at the crèche master, but found him sleeping as deeply as the crechelings around him.
Qui-Gon was almost unaware of his own movement until he was halfway to the young boy’s bedside. Kneeling down by the child’s head, he noticed tear streaks down the child’s small cheeks. And a gentle, though insistent, tugging at his heart. Laying a gentle hand on the boy’s shoulder, he whispered,
“What is troubling you, young one?”
The boy opened his big blue eyes, apparently not at all surprised by his late-night visitor. “I had a dream, Master,” he replied, only a hint of shakiness to his voice.
“Would you like to tell me about it?” Qui-Gon almost looked over his shoulder to see who had spoken. It was as if he was watching someone else from a distance. It was the Force, he realized later, using his body – he was just a vessel, a tool for it to move through.
He sat on the bed next to the child, placing a comforting, if awkward, arm around the boy’s small form.
“I saw flames…I felt death...” he began, his head bowed, studying his hands. Looking closer, Qui-Gon could see a strand of coppery hair behind the boy’s right ear that would one day be braided to symbolize his status as a Padawan.
“I saw a man. He was dark, and evil. He tried to hurt me. I looked for my friends, but I couldn’t find them. Then I was in a strange place, all sandy and hot. I was sad, and lonely.” The boy was silent for a moment. Then he looked up at the older Jedi, tears again rolling down his face. “I saw the Temple on fire, Master!” his voice was choked.
This time, when Qui-Gon moved, it was of his own accord. Pulling the youngling into his lap, he wrapped his arms around him, and whispered, “You mustn’t weep, little one. Our dreams do not always come true; they are but a possibility of what could be. The future is always in motion.”
The child leaned against the older Jedis’ chest, already calling on the Force for calm.
Qui-Gon sat there with the young boy for some time, until he was sure he was asleep. Gently laying him back on his pillow, he pulled the covers up, and left the crèche as silently as he’d entered.
Back in his quarters, Qui-Gon again sat to meditate – this time on the lessons he’d learned.
/Don’t you see, Beloved? You have such a part in many lives, like that of the small boy. Open your heart once more to life and love! Open your heart to trust! Come to me for healing, my precious child, let me make you whole! Only then can you find true peace.
Yes, it was time to return to his life. For 9 long months he had not lived, but merely existed, protecting his pain and grief like a precious treasure. Only as a last resort had he turned to the Force. He had not even attempted to release his burdens to the Greater Power.
He remembered the boy’s big blue eyes looking at him, full of trust. His small body had been almost non-existent in the large Jedi’s embrace. His tiny hands had fisted on Qui-Gon’s tunic. He thought of the peace on the youngling’s face as he laid his copper-haired head on his pillow. The strength and control with which he had grasped the Force was extraordinary. Qui-Gon had no doubt that that was a special boy.
If that small child could find peace and calm so easily, Qui-Gon could as well.
Rising from the floor, he climbed back into bed. Still thinking of the lessons of trust and peace that the boy had taught him that night, sleep drifted closer. As it welcomed the tired master into it’s comforting arms, the deep and painful wound that had tortured him for the past months finally began to heal.
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· Tue Dec 01, 2009 @ 02:35am · 1 Comments