I stretch out my hand, cold, damp, jagged, this is what I feel. “Where am I?” I press the heels of my palms into the dirt and attempt to lift my chest off the ground. But it is difficult; the weight of this dark cloak on my back is so heavy. As I begin to stand my legs tremble, the chains wrapped around me begin to clink & clang. Now I remember where I am, how I wish I could forget. “Wait,” I hear that familiar voice again. It is so faint; I have to strain just to hear it, (concentrate). I hear it again, this time just above a whisper, “Rise….Come”. I begin to look up, it’s so bright and my head falls back down to its normal posture. I have hung my head low for so many years, my spirit too broken to muster up enough pride to look up.
Then I feel a gentle hand beneath my chin and I have the courage to look up again. And then I hear it, that voice “Come….Behold.” There before me is a mountain of stairs, and I feel something ignite within me, a desire, and my spirit began to cackle and spit like dry wood to a fresh fire. The intensity grew deeper, and then almost instinctually I gathered up the chains in my arms and began to climb. Awkward and clumsily, my body fatigued at every step slowly I ascended as the binds quickly entangled me. So I caste them aside, declaring with a new authority that these will no longer hinder me.
I arrive, unsure of where I am or where to go. My eyes frantically scanning this new territory, looking for anything familiar. They look onto a door in the distance, and as I approach I realize there is no way to open it. I hear the voice again, “Knock,” I reach forward my hand fist clenched, and even before I knock the door opens. As if it knew my intention and was anticipating the response. I recognized this dark, unforgiving corridor immediately. All the familiar places were there; disappointment, fear, condemnation, shame, guilt, judgment, rejection, pain, brokenness. But wait, in the distance I see a light, captivated by its unfamiliar presence here I can feel it drawing me to come near, as if it is a part of me. But how can this be? Yet I can’t resist.
I start out, but there is a struggle. The walls are thick and covered in sludge from years of neglect. The way is narrow, but I can make it, I must. My hands quickly press into the walls to try and gain some stability, and I start to wonder. Is it even worth it? Then the voice cries out “Worthy,” and it starts to rain. Water beats down from above, racing down the walls over my head, my hands, soaking into this dark cloak. Its’ power is so intense I can barely see, so I fix my eyes on where I am determined to be. Each step requiring more labor than the last, my cloak heavier and heavier. I am so saturated in this river I can even taste it, and I realize what I thought was water is really tears. I have tasted tears for many years, but these were not mine. And as I wondered where they came from I begin to feel the warmth from the light, and I make one last victorious stride.I find myself on new ground and before me is a new door. The door majestic in its’ form, I don’t think words could describe the beauty held within it. Then I notice a plaque in the middle, rusty, full of dust and dirt, almost like it had been forgotten through the years. Curious I reach up to wipe it with my cloak, and with a deep determination and motivation of heart and soul I uncover the mystery. There on the door was written HOPE, and without a second thought I threw off that dark cloak that had enslaved me and declared freedom. And as I stepped through the door to the other side I heard the voice that had found me, where I was and called me. This time He reached out His hand and said, “Welcome Home,” and as the door closed behind me I saw what was written on this side… Deanne
