My Creativity Was Inhibited Until a Childhood Fear Inspired Me
How a childhood fear became symbolic of a creative life twenty years later
I was afraid of a lot of things as a kid: drowning, raccoons, kidnappers, and, once a year, a bell named Michael.
I lived for a while at a theological seminary. Outside our Gothic Revival chapel stood a structure that housed a hundred-year-old bell known as “Michael the Bell.” Every day I heard Michael ring for morning and evening prayer across the campus.
The night before Easter, we attended the Easter Vigil held in the chapel. I loved that service with the chanted liturgy in the flickering candlelight. I breathed in the fragrant incense which hung heavy in the air. Handbells chimed with each “Alleluia!” in the Easter hymns. I had brought my loudest bell from home, and I shook it as hard as my little hand could. The service ended after the stars were shining, long after my bedtime.
After the service, we’d step out into the chilly night. The kids would run to line up outside the bell tower. It was the one day of the year that kids were allowed to take rides on Michael. A kid would hang on tightly to the rope, and a seminarian would heave down on the heavy rope. Michael the Bell pealed, and the kid would be lifted high over our heads.
