Walk With Me

by Annie Wald

  She worked hard to keep up with Peter. And as she yielded to Peter, her muscles became stronger and she found the walking easier. Although the path was still very rugged, she was able to scramble up the direct, rocky paths Peter loved to take. She let Peter have the biggest log to sit on when they stopped to rest; she gave up asking him to help her with the little travelers when he was tired. Instead of cutting Peter down with unkind words, she complimented him on his stride and thanked him for the warm fire he made every night. She told him how much she appreciated the way he repaired their packs and gathered food for them.

  Peter was still judgmental and rigid, but as she looked on him with the King’s eyes, her love covered over his sins.

  One day she fell and sprained her ankle. She limped on as best she could, not wanting to slow Peter down.

  Peter noticed her grimacing. “What’s wrong?”

  “I twisted my ankle.”

  He carefully bound it up and carried her bags. Celeste was amazed at his kindness. She walked on behind him—and remembered other times he had cared for her. He had helped her out of the Sand Dunes of Foolishness and gone down the path of co-heirs and waited for her at Submission Pond. She thought of how he played with the little travelers. Though he had gone astray with the honey woman, he had not shared the chalice with her, and he had come back to Celeste with remorse. Celeste thanked the King for Peter.

  The days were getting warmer and food easier to find, but Peter still liked to take his time when he looked for provisions. Often he would leave first thing in the morning and not return to Celeste and the little travelers until sunset. But he did not spend the whole day searching for food. Instead he would go off and hike to overlooks, as he had before he became partners with Celeste. Then one day he walked quite far to climb a steep peak that overlooked one of the chasms. When he got to the top, the sun was already low and he decided to take a shorter route down the other side. As he descended, the air turned colder with a sharp wind, and he thought how nice it would be to get back to a warm fire. Much to his surprise, Celeste had become an expert fire builder, and he was certain she had already started one back at their campsite.

  But when he reached the bottom, he discovered a rock slide blocked the way back to the main path. The sun had almost set. He didn’t think it would be safe to retrace his steps or find a way through the wilderness that lay behind it, and he didn’t like the idea of spending a cold night alone. The only other option was to cross a bridge of forgiveness he could see just a little ways down the chasm. When he got to the bridge and looked at the single narrow plank, he shook his head. How could the King expect him to cross such a dangerous bridge? He stood in the growing dark, feeling colder and colder while he wondered what to do.

  Before long, he saw Pardon coming toward him.

  “It’s getting dark and cold,” Pardon said. “I can see the campfire Celeste has made for you, up ahead on the other side of the bridge.”

  Peter nodded, rubbing his arms to stay warm.

  “Have you noticed how she has changed lately? She’s become more considerate and caring, hasn’t she?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Why is it so hard for you to appreciate what she has sacrificed for you?”

  “Because she doesn’t appreciate what I’ve done for her!” Peter took out his account book and showed the guide. “Do you see all the ways she has failed me? Arguing, yelling, how she always needs to be right, not understanding how hard I work to find food, not giving me love or even sympathy, criticizing my choices—in front of the little travelers too. And she holds it over my head that I went off with the honey woman instead of thanking me that I came back to her.”

  “Peter, the King calls you to love, not measuring it out drop by drop, but turning on the faucet and letting it flow freely. Do not react to anger with anger, or fault-finding with blame. Give even more than is asked of you, not in your own strength, but filled with the King’s Breath and power.”

  “But my complaints are just. It’s not fair that I have to cross the bridge.”

  “Do you remember what I said the first time we met? You need to burn that account book. Extend to Celeste the same grace the King gave you. Or have you forgotten His mercy?”

  Peter remembered the moment long ago when he had first set out on the King’s path and Freedom had cut through Peter’s chains of debt.

  “Act on your love for the King,” Pardon said. “Throw your account into the chasm and walk across the bridge. It may be difficult this time, but it will get easier as you practice.”

  Peter took a deep breath. “If there is no other way …” He grabbed onto the rope of mercy. But the rope was slack, and he could feel himself begin to sway.

  “Hold it lightly,” Pardon said. “Move on and you will be fine, for the Servant has gone before you and the way is firm.”

  Peter relaxed his grip on the rope and felt his balance return. Keeping his eyes fixed on the campfire Celeste had made, he walked safely across to the other side.

  AT THE QUIET POOL

  One afternoon Peter and Celeste came to a series of waterfalls like the one they had enjoyed in the Orchard of Earthly Delights. They stopped to let the little travelers play in the shallow pools while they rested. Spring had come in all its glory, and they took in deep breaths of fragrant air while they listened to the birds’ cheering songs. In the warmth of the sun, they dozed off. When they woke, they discovered one of the little travelers had wandered off. They began calling out for him and searching all the paths that led away from the waterfalls, but they couldn’t find him. Then they saw a guide leading a flock of sheep down a path, and on his shoulders rode their little traveler. Abundant Provision told them one of his sheep had gone astray the day before, just like the little traveler, and he too had searched until it was found.

  Then Abundant Provision noticed the frayed cords of commitment on their wrists. “Travelers are often like sheep who wander far from their good shepherd,” he said. “But the King is always looking for them, so He can bring them back to the resting place He made for them. It looks like you have strayed far from the straight path to the Highlands and the King’s City, and you have suffered much: hunger and thirst and great loneliness. But the King longs to be gracious to you. When you call to the King, He will deliver you from your distress. He will lead on a good way; He will satisfy you when you are thirsty and fill your hunger with fine food. He will heal your brokenness and let you feast on His unfailing love to you.”

  Then Abundant Provision led them into a soft green meadow with a quiet pool. The guide took out some bread of life and living water and gave it to them. As they ate and drank, he advised them. “Because the King is your Shepherd, you won’t lack anything on the journey ahead. He will bring you again to green meadows, and He will lead you again to quiet waters where He will restore your soul. You may walk through dark valleys, but you need not fear. No evil will come to you, for He will be with you and will give you His strength.”

  They remained in the meadow for some time, refreshed by the King’s goodness. Abundant Provision gave them new kingly gifts to replace the ones they had lost: a new basket of remembrance and new sheepskins of humility, garments of praise, and rags of compassion. Then he sang to them:

  May the King strengthen you with His Breath,

  May you always walk on the path of His love.

  And as you walk, may you see—really see—the range of His love.

  May He help you to grasp how far it goes, how long, how high, how deep.

  May you experience this vast, unmeasured love,

  and it will fill you up and make you complete.

  When it was time to leave, Peter and Celeste studied the map carefully so they would follow the best path. But they were dismayed to see that many dangers still lay ahead. There were more dry washes and vehement volcanoes and desolate canyons to avoid. Abundant Provision pointed out that several revenge chasms snaked through the land, and they would have to be prepared to
cross bridges of forgiveness many times, for there was no other way to reach the Highlands.

  “Do not be terrified, do not be discouraged, for the King will be with you,” he said. “Make every effort to stay on the path. If you do find yourselves off of it, stop immediately and make your way back.”

  And in my dream, Peter and Celeste resumed their journey.

  Up to the Highlands

  AT THE WARMING HUT OF REVELATION

  With Abundant Provision’s cautions in mind, Peter and Celeste carefully kept to the path. The trail rose through a thick forest, occasionally going through a meadow before continuing up. Soon it became so narrow that Peter and Celeste had to walk in single file. They had little chance to talk, but it was a comfortable, peaceful silence. Peter was glad to be climbing after their long sojourn in the plains and valleys. Even if there were no scenic overlooks, he made sure he didn’t get ahead of Celeste and the little travelers. And Celeste was pleased that Peter kept pace with them, for there were fewer travelers in the region. Even though they didn’t speak, his presence comforted her.

  Then one morning, after spending the night in a meadow, they awoke to find a bank of thick clouds moving toward them, driven by a stiff, biting wind. By the time they packed up, the clouds had surrounded them and they couldn’t find the path. They heard something clinking, and when they headed toward it, they almost bumped into a couple. The husband was wearing a complete set of armor; other than a small slit for his eyes, he was covered in metal.

  “Where did he get that?” Celeste asked the wife.

  “It’s hard to say. He had a few of the pieces when we first met. But he’s picked up more along the way.”

  “Where does he find them?”

  “I don’t know. I think they just appear on him.”

  “Can he speak?” Peter asked.

  The husband raised an armored flap that covered his ears, then lifted his mouthpiece.

  “What?”

  “I asked if you could speak.”

  “Yes,” the husband said.

  “But he prefers to keep to himself,” the wife said.

  “Aren’t you lonely, never talking together?” Celeste noticed his chainmail gloves. “You can’t even hold hands properly.” She wondered how they drank from the chalice together.

  “What are you protecting yourself from?” Peter said. “She’s not going to hurt you.”

  “It’s no use,” the wife said. “We’ve just come from the Warming Hut of Revelation and the guide said he could help us, but my partner refused to take off his armor. So we’re going back down where the walking is easier.”

  The husband tugged at his wife’s hand, and they shuffled on.

  Peter and Celeste and the little travelers pressed up the path to the hut. Because they could barely see the path, Peter made sure they held onto each other, so no one would get lost. Sometimes the fog was so thick, even the trees disappeared. They had no idea where they were going. But they knew the path was still rising steeply, for the air became cooler and they could feel their muscles aching as they climbed. Each day they were less winded, and their legs became stronger. But Celeste suffered from the cold; her lips turned blue, and she could barely feel her fingers and toes.

  They finally reached the warming hut and huddled together inside. “What a strange place,” Peter said. “It’s not even heated. You’d think the owners would have installed central heating or at least kept the firebox full. There are just a few pieces of kindling of affection, and I don’t see how they can keep us warm.”

  “And where’s the guide to welcome us or the books that will teach us how to restore the warmth between us again?”

  “You are always relying on guides and reading books about how to be partners,” Peter said.

  “Because I don’t know what to do. When I want to get closer to you, you always pull away from me.”

  “Aren’t things better between us?”

  “It’s true we spend more time together. But I wished we shared more. When we talk, it’s just about practical matters—what to feed the little travelers, which path we’ll take. Don’t you remember how we used to talk and talk all night in the woods before we became partners?”

  Peter didn’t answer. He was thinking there was nothing to talk about. He knew everything about Celeste; he could even predict her questions and her responses. Then he heard the King say to him: “Do you? Do you really know what Celeste is feeling right now? Do you really know how she suffered in the Desolate Canyon? If you knew more about her, you would be able to love her better.”

  Peter thought maybe he should try the kindling after all. He rubbed two sticks together, and instantly the kindling started to blaze with a powerful heat. “Come sit by the fire, Celeste.” He lay his coat on the floor in front of the fireplace.

  “What a wonderful fire,” Celeste said.

  “So what is wrong?” Peter said. He feared that simple question would open up a torrent of conversation from Celeste.

  Celeste stared silently at the fire, wiggling her fingers and toes. She didn’t know if she could bear it if she started to talk and Peter didn’t listen.

  Peter was glad Celeste didn’t want to talk. But the King spoke to him again. “Of course she doesn’t want to talk with you when you look so impatient.”

  So Peter tried once more. “Tell me, what has been hard for you?”

  “Do you really care?”

  Peter nodded. “Of course I do. I’m your partner.”

  “But you get so caught up in walking and gathering food,” she said. “Sometimes I really wonder if you still love me.”

  “How was it for you in the Desolate Canyon?” he said gently. “I really want to hear.”

  Celeste took a deep breath. Warmed by the kindling’s fire, she gathered her courage to share again with Peter. Slowly she began to tell him how lonely she had been, and how hurt she had felt when she learned of the honey woman. She didn’t think it was time yet to tell him about Skull Hill, but she did tell him that she was learning to rely on the King to meet her needs and not Peter.

  When Peter heard this, he was relieved, for he had felt so overwhelmed trying to care for Celeste.

  “You know sometimes,” Celeste said, “I think you’d rather not be married.”

  “Being partners has turned out so much harder than I expected,” Peter admitted. “I used to have such warm deep feelings for you, and now I often don’t feel anything.”

  Celeste wasn’t offended. “It’s that way for me too sometimes. But I want to remain faithful to the vows I made with you, regardless of how I feel. It’s hard though, and sometimes I sense myself pulling away from you and becoming distant.”

  Peter put more wood on the fire. “You know, when we were at the Valley of the Cut Cords, I realized how much duller my journey would have been without you.”

  “Really?” Celeste brightened. “You really thought that?”

  “I’ve wondered if you love the little travelers more than you love me,” Peter said. “You spend so much time with them, and it takes you so long to put them to bed at night and then you are too tired to drink from the chalice. When you wake up, the first thing you say is, ‘I wonder how the little travelers are doing.’ I think if I disappeared, it wouldn’t really bother you—you’d be happy enough with the little travelers.”

  Celeste had never imagined that Peter felt that way. She took his hand. “Oh Peter, what would I have done without you? You were brave enough to ignore Mr. One Verse and leave Pigeon Hole, and you rescued all of us from the Orchard of Earthly Delights.”

  The fire burned on, warming them as they talked into the night. Although Peter didn’t tell Celeste about his postcards, he talked about the chalice and how important it was to him. And Celeste told him how much she needed time alone with him before they drank from it. They listened with kindness and gentleness to each other, and as they shared their joys and sorrows, the numbness left Celeste’s heart, and Peter’s cold fear thawed.


  IN THE HIGHLANDS

  In my dream, I saw that when morning came, the sky had cleared to a brilliant blue. Outside the warming hut, Peter and Celeste looked around in astonishment. They hadn’t realized that as they hiked in the fog, they had been climbing a Mountain of Maturity. Now they found themselves in a velvet green meadow that seemed to float high above the rest of the world. Ahead of them on the horizon, the King’s City rose even higher.

  “I can’t believe it!” Celeste said. “We’ve reached the Highlands.”

  Just then, a mountain guide was walking by. When Patience heard what Celeste said, he laughed. “Most people who reach the Highlands have the same reaction. You have taken a slow and gradual ascent up the Mountains of Maturity, and Skull Hill blocked the last view of the Highlands for you. You were walking in faith for quite some time.”