Blog.

Pop serves himself and then leans toward me. His gaze is direct when he speaks, “Daughter, what do you want to ask me? No question is off limits. What do you want to ask, or what do you need to say? I am listening. I want to hear your heart.” My throat tightens, I swallow hard and try to focus, desperately working to suppress the wave of emotion that rises. Despite significant angst within, I recognize the significance of Pop’s invitation.

Climbing the narrow staircase to the third floor, I reached the landing. Two doors wait silently, sentries guarding sacred space, and one bears a faded brass plaque, “Turret Room.” My fingers linger on the cold metal key with the big wooden tag in my pocket. I lift it to the oddly shaped keyhole and slide it in. A soft click, and the latch yields. Opening the door, I enter.

Jesus' gaze is direct and intense, but it is not harsh or critical. I know he sees me more clearly than I see myself. "As you hiked the trail at your current pace, I noticed you left me behind. What is your hurry, dear one?" Jesus continues, "Rest is a good idea, and I would love to sit with you for a little while. You can tell me what you have been thinking about and what you have noticed as you hiked."

Finally, I come to the unremarkable, weather-worn, wooden sign. It reads "Respite Retreat," marking a path branching off the main trail and leading into the woods. With low expectations, I follow it.

I look up and see him standing on a rocky ledge where the path abruptly moves upward. I walk over to the steep incline where Jesus looks down from the ledge and extends his hand to grasp mine.  Leaning on my walking stick with one hand, I reach for Jesus with the other. With a firm grip he effortlessly lifts me up and over the boulders to the place he stands. I feel his calloused hand holding mine–he doesn’t let go.

I contemplate my pack which seems to have grown bigger than I remember; it is full and bulging at the seams. I feel the tension in my chest and the knot in my gut, and I just don’t want to keep going like this... so burdened and weighed down. I see a shadowy figure approaching. The figure draws near with a steady gait, and I know it is him. How I need him, but I feel so foolish in this struggle and angst.