The Sacred Walk

Dear Friend,

(I am 100% writing to you.)

A friend shared this with me on Friday, and I think I am supposed to pass it on. Some portion of it, at least. It is condensed from a poem by Kimberly Henderson. You may want to read the whole thing.

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I Would Have Pulled Joseph Out

I would have pulled Joseph out. Out of that pit….
I would have pulled David out. Out of the caves he hid away in….
I would have pulled Esther out. …Out of the path of a vicious, power-hungry foe… 
And I would have pulled Jesus off. Off of the road that led to suffering and pain….
… 
And oh friend. I want to pull you out. I want to change your path. I want to stop your pain.

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I often wonder if the hardest pain to let go of is never our own. The hardest pain to release is the pain of those you love, and I know your pack is filled your beloved’s suffering. It is sacred pain that we carry on our sacred paths, but still I long to take it from you, to snatch your hand and to sneak you into the stone cottage beside the magic garden, where you can drop your pack in the crushed gravel by the peony beds. I long to invite you in, run a warm bath, to wrap you in a soft, blue blanket in the overstuffed sofa near, but not too near, the fireplace, to open a bottle of easy red wine, and sit with you until the birds and dawn-deacon return to announce the morning blessings.

But I cannot.  And I ought not.

“So instead of trying to pull you out,”  I will walk with you - and for as long as you will have me. Sometimes a few steps ahead, sometimes a few behind, and sometimes right beside you, our hands brushing when you start to wander. To wonder. 

But always with you, sharing the weight of your pain when you will let me, and always carrying the hope that this walk, and yes, even your pain and your beloved’s pain is not, and cannot be, in vain.

Oremus,

Chris