A Walk to Remember, Part 2

~ (Continued from here) ~

The curling, smoky flame…the charred remains…the fire and the light…they transported me back to another Walk. One that I took almost 15 years ago. A walk that changed me forever, and one that I will always remember…

With eyes misting over, I said in a quivering voice, “Children, I want to tell you a story.”

Five pairs of eyes gazed at me. Then Roma, seated to my right, quietly rose and retrieved a box of tissues, setting it before me. My children know their mother well.

“Do you remember me telling you about my Walk to Emmaus, when Bianca was just a baby?” Heads nodded, waiting. My wonderful children love a good story--even one they’ve heard before.

I told them again of this amazing retreat I had been on long ago and far away. Told them of how I spent 72 hours in a timeless place, surrounded by other pilgrims, doing nothing but focusing on God, and experiencing the love of Christ as never before. I remembered the agape love that was poured out on me…the mentors that prayed over me for 72 hours straight…and of how I lived always in the moment, for there were no watches or clocks anywhere. Nothing to distract me from the ultimate purpose of the Walk, which was to commune with and experience Christ in a most unexpected way. I told them about the singing…the teaching…the sharing on the level of your very soul…the realization that this is what heaven must be like.

And then, I shared once again about the most special night of all. “There was one night,” I said, “when we took a Walk, alone but not alone, and came upon a place that was so…holy…that it took my breath away….”

By now I was openly weeping, my voice choked. It is always this way, when I remember my Walk. Even all these years later.

“…and  at this place, was a Cross, and it drew me to it, and I could feel everything in my heart that held me back from a deeper Walk with Christ just pour out and spill down at that cross. There was light, and the light consumed all that I gave. I was filled with such joy that I could not stand! I dropped to my knees and cried out, and then I was lifted up and embraced, and laughter and singing surrounded me, and filled my heart to overflowing!”

I paused and composed myself, as my children waited, rapt.

Fingering the growing pile of crumbled tissues, I slowly continued. “You see, children, this Walk was my mountain-top experience. I went up to see God, and when I came back down, having seen Him, I could never be the same. And when I look at these ashes, I remember how life sprang from death, and I comprehend more of what it cost Jesus to purchase that life for me. I pray that you, too, will always remember--not so much what you gave up, but what you gained.”

I wanted to tell them more about my Walk, but I refrained. Someday, I hope they will find themselves pilgrims on the road to Emmaus, and I want the Walk to amaze and overwhelm and transform them, as it did me. I want them to weep and shiver and marvel anew every time they remember it, years and years later. And I want them to tell their children about it, over and over again.

Because a good story is worth repeating.

“When Moses came down from Mount Sinai…he was not aware that his face was radiant because he had spoken with the LORD.” (Exodus 34:29)

~ Posted by Betsy