You took me to a valley, a deep, dark, ominous land. You pointed the way and asked me to go through.
You made it clear that only I could walk through it, alone, but you weaved character and stamina of heart together with thread and twine.
The twine is harsh, rough, painful as it cuts into the beating heart beating, but the thread is fine, gold laced, with soothing salve that brings peace and hope with every heartbeat.
Between the velvety soft and iron clad, the happy, yet sad, all good but everything bad, the path has led me on.
And now, You tell me:
Go now through the dark place. I will not carry you, nor walk for you, for you alone must take the steps. You must both descend, and climb, the rugged trail. Know this, however, know that I number your steps as I do your days. You lift your foot. I’ll light your path. You take the steps. I’ll guide your way.
When you are in the darkest forests, in the sticky, confining place where lungs can’t breathe, where every gasp feels as if it were the last, you will not teeter over the edge into the abyss, for that is already settled. You must, however, resist the darkness, embrace the hope, however dim it may seem.
If you stumble, even for a moment, gather your strength. Talk to Me. Stand back up. Press on.
Even when death feels forever present, I can save you. Eat, if only the crumbs from the table, eat, for the bread you need will pulse through both the twine and thread in your heart.
The valley may be darker than your worst imagination. Do not despair. If you knew what the valley held, you would never go, but for now, that is where I point you.
When you feel lost, know you are found. When you feel blind, know that you see. When clouds pour rain upon your naked afflicted soul, when warmth quickly fades from life, call to Me. I will hear, for it is not by strength, nor by power, but by My spirit you shall go.
You must walk the valley of the shadow of death alone, but know that I hear your every thought and feel every pain, for I am there with you. Though you cannot see Me, you will know my presence, an ever present help in the time of need.
Go now, My son. Walk on. Don’t stop. Push ahead.
You will be injured, wounded deeply, scarred. Your heart will change, your perspective narrow, but your wisdom shall grow.
After you come out of the valley, you will be stronger in your weakness, better in meekness, more enduring in humility. For now, however, you must simply walk and believe.
I await on the other side. I shall greet you. My scarred hands will pull you to Myself when one day I welcome you to a new home far from the valleys, far above the mountain tops.
You shall see. But for now, you must walk by faith, not by sight.
Go. Go now. The valley waits.
So do I.