Everich Follows His Heart: Part 1

It was just like any other day for Everich. He was walking down the path he'd always known. Very rarely did he wander from it. The path had taken him to some very beautiful places over his lifetime, and through some very extreme seasons. He had been nervous at times, but the path was always true.


The most exciting thing about the path was that it was forever changing. Sometimes it cut deep into the forest; or sometimes it blazed across barren desert-lands. But the most astonishing thing to Everich was the path's constant intentionality. As he approached a river, the path would stretch out over it... a bridge had been built. When it got dark, the path would light his way... lamps were hung along the trees. When it got dry, the path would provide drink... a fountain of cool water had been established. When it was cold, the path kept him warm... extra clothing had been left for Everich to wear. 


And so, it was apparent that someone was ahead of Everich, forging the path before him. This was no big debate for Everich within his own mind. The signs of intelligence, ingenuity, and skill abounded. Fountains, lamps, even clothing had not simply appeared out of thin air. So, to Everich, it was a logical deduction---and a rational one---that someone who understood Everich's needs walked ahead. Whether it was like this for all path-walkers, he did not know. But for him, it was a certainty.

Little by little, Everich even got to know this One-Who-Walked-Before. Everich began to notice small signs or notes along the way. This, Everich knew, was communication from the Path-Forger. Everich actually looked forward to the day when he could meet this Maker. After all, Everich liked being on the path---he always knew he could rely on it.

He could only remember a few times in the past when he strayed from the path to follow some small fancy. But, he never went too far; he always found his way back very quickly, afraid of what might happen if he wandered. As long as he kept the path in sight, and read the notes from the Path-Forger, a little wandering couldn't hurt.

This particular day Everich was walking along enjoying his travels when he heard a rustle in the bushes up ahead. Bushes and dense forest bordered that section of the path on both sides, and Everich was sure that something was in the bush just on the left!

All of a sudden, another man fell out before him, hemming and hawing about the difficulty with which he was so apparently dealing. Everich helped him up, and brushed off the leaves and dirt that were clinging to the man's jacket.

"Sorry about that, chap," the man said. "I didn't see you there." He had a rather gruff voice, but Everich thought the man seemed carefree in how he spoke. "That's okay," Everich responded. "What's all the trouble? Need any help?"

The man answered, "I was wandering through the woods near here when I heard a Voice calling my name! Was that you?"

"No," Everich said with some confusion. "I've been walking along by myself for a while now. Didn't know anyone else was around."

"Well, the reason I headed this way was because of that Voice. And it wasn't you, you say?" Everich raised his brow in question and shook his head. "Oh well, back to the woods," and the man took off for the other side of the path.

"Hold... hold on just a moment, if you please," Everich was still trying to understand. "Why not stay on the path for a while? Perhaps we can walk together."

The wanderer replied, "No thanks. I don't like being tied down to one specific direction. I like to wander around on my own and and try to make my own path. There's a lot of beauty in this world that the path can't take you to, you know; and I'd like to see it."

Everich considered what this wanderer was saying. Had he been missing out on something? Could beauty be found off the path? He supposed it was possible, but, come on. Following that path, Everich had seen many beautiful things. And further, couldn't one get lost by not following the path?

Thinking out loud Everich said, "But won't you be lost in the woods?"

The wanderer chuckled a little. "Oh you path-walkers. You think everyone off the path is lost. That's not it at all. Not everyone who wanders is lost. You're only lost if you don't know which way you want to go!" Before Everich could ask anything else, the wanderer concluded, "Well, I must be on my way." And in an instant, the man stepped off the path and trudged forward, cutting his own course through the forest.

Everich still lingered at this crossing. He watched the man move through the trees until he disappeared. Had Everich been missing something this whole time? What if wandering farther off the path was better than staying on it? Everich decided to sit down, stop his forward progress, and think about what he wanted to do next. Perhaps there was something out there that was better than the way he'd been heading.

Reflections: Hope in Rest

It was late... or early—which ever. The night sky was pitch black when I looked out the window; no twinkles of starlight broke through. I was preparing to leave my warm studio and make—what seemed like—the endless trek back to my dorm. I was exhausted. The pressure of my work still troubled me. I considered staying, but I would need vital rest before the big presentation. To bed I must go. Yet, this walk before me was daunting. The cold would feel colder on my effete body. I could already sense my skin tensing up, my hairs standing on end. In Blacksburg, if it's cold outside, it's frigid—the wind makes sure of that. And this night was no different. The wind whipped through the walkways, creating a vortex of leaves and trash between the buildings. It rolled over treetops, down the sides of the buildings, starting at the outskirts of campus and quickly making its way inward, amassing in chaos about the Drill Field. It would not be easy or comfortable, but into the cold I must go, for rest was my prize.

My path would take me along the length of Burchard Hall, directly down to the Drill Field. Beyond that I would have the residential dorms to wade through. My dorm sat at the farthest corner of campus... of course. I zipped up my coat, made sure my hood was properly over my head, gloves in place, and pressed open the door. Miserable. I dragged on with some reserve. I made it past the end of Burchard; around the corner to the straightaway. Oh how my face hurt with the icy wind eating at my cheeks! Down the steps, across the street, and... stop! I froze, right on the precipice of that grand bowl. Was it the arctic chill that hardened me? Discomfort, perhaps? Some unknown fear? I knew it would get several degrees colder if I were to venture down into its center. Did I really want to go on? I stood for a moment, searching for an answer. I must. Rest was my ultimate goal, and if I turned back at that point my progress would have been made null, my discomfort would have been for naught. That hope of warmth and rest as I would settle down between my sheets revived me from my stolid state. My hope far outweighed my doubts. So I pressed forward, the hope of ultimate rest and peace driving me on toward my goal. It still does.

Welcome Home to Mercy Hill

It was cold as I walked along the dirt path. The sky was black; the earth was quiet. All was still; it felt like all the earth slept, and I was alone. I had been awakened by my own alienation. No one else could understand. The sense of shame enshrouded me, and I looked up to see dark shadows looming--trees against the night sky. They were heavy on my mind as I trudged forward. The path was narrow and winding; it went up, down, and back around, and I wondered how I could ever find my way off it. Strange noises surrounded me; fear of the unknown began to creep into my thoughts. I would be lost in these woods forever. Would the sun ever shine upon me again? I had been walking this path a long time, trying to find my way; but finally, my hope ran out. I was lost! I needed to be found.

Then, it was as if my heart's cry was answered before my very eyes--the sun began to rise. I looked up to my right and through the thick line of trees I made out the shape of a hill. The sun was rising behind it, and the shadows of the morning were growing. This side of the hill was still clothed in darkness; the black dome shown against a pale grey sky; a thin line of bright, warm light outlined its figure. Instead of fearing the unknown, I ran toward that darkness, for I could see past it to the glory of the morning sun. I ran from the path I had walked so many times. The trees and brush were thick as I tore through the landscape. Unseen sticks whipped my face; dead trees and rocks caused me to stumble. Yet my drive for the light was great, and I ferociously clawed and clamored my way upward.

Soon, the thicket cleared, and I rolled out into an open space about the crest of the hill. I sat on the ground panting; and as I turned my eyes upward toward the precipice, I beheld a man standing against the backdrop of the sun. His outline was dark, and merged with the outline of the hill. I almost had to turn away because of the brilliance of the moment. Then I saw him come forward to me. He stretched out his hand and lifted me up. Where had I come to? What was this place? It seemed like it had been near me all along. Then, I heard his warm voice say to me, "Welcome, welcome to Mercy Hill," and I knew I had come home.