(btw, I'm taking a writing class, which is why many of my recent posts are stories :))
I had grown, and now there was a mountain. My days of innocence had gone, and now I needed to go Home-- the top of the Mountain.
I wasn't completely certain why this
mountain was mine; after all, there were countless others to choose
from. As I scanned the range, I noticed that thought the mountains were
different, they all ended in the clouds.
Behind the clouds was light.
I looked to my side, to my friend who was to climb this mountain with me. Her mouth hang open as she stared up at it.
"How will we ever make it?" she asked me. I pointed to the trail, "We just need for follow The Way."
Before
we knew it, we were climbing. The Way was steep and heard. Rocks moved
and turned under our feet, creating bruises. Occasionally, we found
water and food left for us. There were also signs and notes of encouragement left on the trees; and always counsel never to leave The Way.
In time, we came to an overlook: a place in the shade with a seat, where we could see how far we'd come, and look up to our goal.
Then
we started moving again. For a while, my friend and I were both
optimistic. We both felt energized after the overlook. But when we came
to the next deposit of refreshments, my friend refused to join me.
"I can wait," she said, "I'm still pumped from the overlook."
"Okay," I said. Worried for her, I ate thoughtfully.
As
we continued, the trail grew harder. My friend insisted on only taking
sporadic meals, and soon her strength started to diminish.
I
helped her through the tough spots, and she said she'd eat and drink
more, but every time we came to some, she'd just nibble and sip.
She began to be despondent, and frustrated.
"Why is the path so hard?" she'd ask me, "Why must we only go 'The Way'?"
"The Way takes us home," I'd answer, surprised at her questions. "It's the only Way."
"Well, what about that path, over there?" with the arm I wasn't supporting, she pointed off into the trees, where the ground seemed more level, and where a crooked path wound it's way.
Just then, we came to another overlook.
"C'mon," I tugged her over to the bench, "Let's rest, and get our bearings."
Once again, we sat on a bench, and I enjoyed the view. But my friend was jittery, and anxious to explore the crooked path. When we stood again, she went straight into the trees, and onto the path. She gasped, "You've got to come see this!"
I hesitated as I reached the edge of The Way.
"What about food?" I asked. "We'll starve."
"There's food here, too!" my friend yelled, "And this path take the easy way up he mountain."
I couldn't let her go off by herself. Maybe I could go convince her to come back, and climb The Way with me.
Just then, a breeze blew a letter up to my feet.
No matter how hard it gets, no matter how long it takes, follow The Way. I have gone off onto crooked paths, but they only lead to danger. There is a Way back to The Way, but it is hard. Trust me, The Way is the only Way.
(heart) Jen.
I didn't know Jen, but I knew my friend was in trouble. I had to save her.
"Wait up!" I called. Already, she'd gone far away. Following, I left The Way.
As
I ran through the trees, I tripped on unseen roots and stones. Soon, I
came to a fork in the middle of the road. Which way had my friend gone?
I
shouted her name, but she didn't answer. Fatigued, I looked around for
the food she'd mentioned. Finding some, I ate it-- it disappeared in my mouth like a breath. What had I done?
Then I saw the Way to The Way. By the entrance was another note.
You've
made a mistake, ______. But I've prepared this path for you. You've
made it harder than it could've been, but you can still get back home.
This Way will lead you home.
(heart), Your Brother.
I went. This Way was
hard, but there was real food and water here, and hope! Looking at the
thick foliage around me, I knew that this Way had been forged with a
great sacrifice.
At
last, I reached The Way again-- right where I'd left it. I still had
scars from my time off the path, but they had healed. I went over to the
overlook where I'd last seen my friend. I looked up the Mountain to where Home was, and felt a renewed vigor and dedication to get there.
I started climbing once more. Although it was still difficult, I had faith that I was heading Home.
Occasionally, I could see the crooked path; but I also saw pits, cliffs, ledges, and dead ends. I hoped and prayed that my friend would make it back.
As I was resting at another overlook,
I heard someone running up behind me. I turned, and cried for joy!
There was my friend! Out of breath and scarred, but happy and strong. I
asked her what had happened.
"After
I left The Way, I followed the crooked path to a river. I ate a lot of
the food, but it was never enough. The crooked path led through a river,
and there was no other way for me to go. I decided I could swim it. I
never even got half-way.
"The
river pulled me farther and farther down; I struggled for breath! …" my
friend shook her head as she stared at the ground. I put my arms around
her, and listened.
"I
knew I would be taken down the Mountain, all the way. I didn't want
that. I wanted to go Home again. I'd forgotten my goal, and my purpose.
But once I remembered and desired it again, the oddest thing happened.
Someone gave me strength. I used it, and swam as swiftly as I could for
the bank.
"When
I finally got out, I was stained a muddy brown. I found another path,
but it seemed different from the crooked paths. Following it, I came to a
pond, with a sign that said "Malada," and some hard soap. I knew what to do. I took the soap, and washed up!"
I looked into my friends eyes: sparkling, looking up at the Mountain.
"It felt so good to be clean again," she breathed softly.
"How did you catch up with me so quickly?" I asked her.
"I
ran. I ran all The Way. I ate the food, drank the water, and stopped at
every overlook I could," she stood, "And now I'm ready to begin again.
Shall we go?"
So we did. We got up, and climbed the Mountain.
