(11/13/20)
(I love this because it ended up being a pretty good prediction of how my life was going to go in a spiritual sense.)
There I was, walking along, not really paying attention to where I was going. Suddenly I tripped and fell, but instead of landing on the grass I fell into a deep, dark well. I kept falling deeper and deeper. The sunlight I had been enjoying a moment ago was no longer there. I could not see or hear anything except for the sound of my frantic breathing. I kept reaching out for something, anything, to grab a hold of, but all there seemed to be was cold, slick rocky walls. Finally I grasped a root that must’ve made it’s way through the sides of the well. I held on with both hands, desperate. I knew I was in a very precarious situation, and knew there was no hope of getting any help. I’d have to get back up, somehow, on my own.
I dangled there for what seemed like an eternity, with my mind racing, trying to come up with a solution. My arms were getting so tired and sore, my body was bruised from the long fall down, and my feet were immersed in icy cold water. All I could see was complete and total darkness.
I began to cry, then sob. The harder I cried, the tougher it was to hold on to the piece of root. The water was rising higher on my legs. I was so weary and feeling hopeless.
Finally, with what I was sure was my last breath I squeaked out a “help!”, knowing no one was there to hear but feeling the need anyhow.
Amazingly, I heard a man’s voice speaking to me. I never heard him approach with all the crying and carrying on I was doing, but he was there. He said, “Take my hand”.
At first I couldn’t see his hand because it was too dark, I sensed it I suppose. I didn’t want to let go of the tree root I was holding on to because I knew I would fall. On the other hand I was quickly loosing my grip, so why not? It occurred to me it was taking a long time to make the decision and was terrified his patience would run out and he’d leave me, but he didn’t. He kept his hand right there the whole time, but he didn’t say another word. I worked up the courage to reach out to him. I let go of my root with one hand, certain I would be swallowed up by the murky water, but he had a firm warm grip on my fingers before I could even sink an inch. Something seemed different about his hand but I wasn’t quite ready to figure out what that was.
Then he said, “Now let go with your other hand, it’s all right, I’ve got you.” Knowing I had nothing to lose, I did. His other hand grabbed a hold of mine and he gently pulled me up, out of the water, onto a narrow ledge along the side of the wall which I hadn’t noticed before. I was still crying, still terrified.
He stood there, patiently letting me hold on to his hands for comfort. I started to calm down.
I couldn’t see him, it was still too dark. I began to fear him because I knew nothing about him – where he had come from, if he would lead me out the rest of the way, or where he would take me. I let go of his hands in ignorance.
“There’s only one way out of here.”
I asked him what it was, hoping he’d tell me then leave, but he didn’t.
He replied, “Trust me. I will lead you out of here.”
I was so doubtful because I didn’t know if I could or should trust him. I knew nothing about him. I hesitated then timidly reached out to him with one hand, which he took a hold of. Like before, I felt something different about his hand, but was too worried to figure out what it was.
He started ahead of me and with no coercion, just gentle guidance, he led me up this narrow ledge. I’d slip and fall along the way sometimes but he was always there to catch me when I called out to him. The climb seemed long and arduous, my muscles were beginning to hurt and I still felt cold, though not as cold as before. I was afraid of following him too far because I wasn’t sure where he was taking me. He never said much, never explained where we were going.
Occasionally I’d stop to figure out where we were or how I could get myself out of there without him, but I’d feel so lost. When I did this he would hesitate long enough for me to make up my mind, then he’d carry on ahead of me without saying a word to persuade me one way or the other.
Eventually I could see a little light right above me, it looked so good, a ray of hope so to speak. I still couldn’t see the man in front of me, though, he was still in the shadows.
The closer we got to the light the better I started to feel. My muscles and bruises weren’t so sore. I was still cold and tired, but the warmth and brightness from the illumination started chasing away the chill, waking me up.
I decided it was easier to just consistently hold on to his hand instead of slipping and falling so much.
Awhile later I thought I should probably let him go and continue on my own. I was positive I could go the rest of the way without him. The destination seemed so close, easy enough.
He must have sensed my thoughts because he said, “You have a choice, you know.” At that moment I realized I did not want to let go anymore, which completely surprised me.
I looked at him and still couldn’t see his features but I was beginning to see his form. I asked him uncertainly (still a bit wary of him), ‘I’d like to hold on, please?” He didn’t say a thing, but I could sense his smile, and suddenly I felt like I was coming ALIVE! My whole being seemed to be opening up. I was still nervous about everything, however, so I just looked down and waited for him to lead the way again.
It took quite a bit longer but my steps didn’t feel so heavy because my fears were falling away. I knew I wasn’t lost and wandering alone anymore.
We were almost to the top when the ledge we were walking on ended, there was no where to go. My guide was no longer next to me. I frantically looked around and there he was above me, arms stretching towards me, waiting for me to leap up to him. I looked down to see how far I had come, but also how far I’d fall again if he didn’t catch me, knowing I would not be able to catch hold of that root again. I started to panic. I looked up at him but I couldn’t see his face for the light around him was blinding, I could only see his arms. I sighed and cried a bit, and still he kept reaching down for me. I took a deep breath, jumped, and pleaded with him to please, please catch me which, of course, he did.
I stood there completely dazed, trying to catch my breath, my bearing. I was still crying, but for different reasons. He held me.
In gratitude I sank to my knees and reached up to grab his hand, only this time to thank him. I bent my head to kiss his palm and now I could see what was different about it. At the base of it was a hole, and I kissed it. I took a hold of his other hand, which had a similar wound, and kissed it also.
I bent down to his bare feet, each with their own puncture wound, and kissed them.
I finally looked up at him, His face, and saw all the radiant beauty I could ever hope to witness. The compassion and love in his eyes so overwhelming . . . I could say nothing, just weep with joy, but He knew what I meant. He smiled, put his arms around me again, and picked me up, again. Which he still does, all I have to do is ask.
I knew I was finally on my way back home. Thank You, Jesus!
c. Pearl E. M.
On Monday we’ll return to Little Pearl’s story. Have a great weekend!
