The Ticket

 

When I received my ticket it was a bright sunny day. Not a cloud in the sky. My hand pulled hard on the mailbox door, (it tends to stick sometimes, grr). I noticed only one thing inside it. I instantly recognized this envelope. I had received one of these before…many years before this time. My heart sank. The all too familiar dread and grief that I thought was long buried and gone swept over me as I opened it and read my name on the ticket. I took note of the time stamp when I would be picked up. I had little time to spare as I would need to pack for this journey. Having gone before I knew some of what I would need. But my mind was racing…how could I get it all together in time?

As I turned to go back inside to prepare for the journey the sky suddenly turned dark with black clouds. They looked as if they were a swirling pot about to boil over. And indeed it would! Lightning flashed all about as I ran up the stone walkway back to the house. A torrential downpour ensued, followed quickly by hail when I was not even halfway there. 

As my foot hit the next stone lightning struck right beside me…I felt a slight sting on my right arm and leg, my feet carried me even faster. 

Somehow though, I managed to make it inside unharmed other than the sheer panic that had washed over me. The storm raged the whole night and on into the next day. At one point it became so violent the whole house shook and I feared it would fall. But somehow it held through. The foundation was solid, and held the house secure. It kept storming for the next few days up until my time to go arrived. 

 

The day that my ride arrived it was still raining but the storm had cleared, but the temps were beginning to plummet. I  was ready for this ride, though no part of me wanted it.

I expected a warm bus to pick me up as the rain had by now turned to a cold snow with a cold northern wind to beat. But it was a simple wagon that came pulled by horses. It didn’t even have a canvas cover. It was just an open wagon bed. I knew this was going to be a cold, lonely ride.

I walk out the front door, with what I thought would be “enough”. I mean I have been on this trip before. As I near the wagon I noticed etched on the worn wood on each side of the wagon were different words. On one side was sorrow and despair.  On the other side was written anger and resentment.  But on the back board was peace and trust.

I take a deep breath. I don’t know by whose hand my ticket on this wagon had come but I do know Who allowed it to be sent to me and I trusted that Man and so I boarded the wagon. 

The ride was beyond even the word awful. Worse than I had even first thought.

The entirety of the trip, I was jostled about from one side of the wagon to the other. I swear the driver was drunk. And to be honest he probably was!! . Almost in waves I would hit anger and resentment and then tumble my way back across the wagon to despair and sorrow. Back and forth between the two sides. I desperately tried to crawl and drag myself to the peace and trust side, but every time I almost made it the wagon would lurch violently and I would tumble back to either side of anger or sorrow and their counterpart.

We were traveling far too fast and over crevices and canyons that were so deep I'm not even sure how we made it over and through them. 

All the while it was snowing and blowing. The wind was icy cold. Fortunately I was dressed for the ride in warm clothes. But with all the bumping and jostling my coat and warm pants got holes in them by the nails that were sticking out the sides of the boards of the wagon. By the time I arrived at the destination my clothes were tattered almost completely. 

After what seemed like days the wagon came to a sudden and jerky stop. I peeked up over the side, afraid to look at the scene I knew I would behold. A wasteland. Snow, ice and cold for miles and a darkness you could feel. I climbed out knowing I couldn’t stay in that wagon any longer and not wanting to.

I managed to see a big oak tree and ran as quickly as I could over to it. I had nothing to light a fire that first night and it was a long and cold one. Ice stung my face as the wind whipped all around. I huddled myself closer and closer to the tree, hoping and praying morning would come and to feel

the sun’s warmth upon my cheek. Just a small glimmer of warmth, that’s all I longed for.

Morning came and with it the snow and ice stopped but the clouds remained and the cold. I knew the snow and ice would return each night and so I knew I needed to find a way to make a fire and better clothes if I was to endure my stay here.

I rose, using the oak for strength. That’s when I noticed them in the dim grey light of dawn…small lights burning all around the vast open space of the snow covered plain.

Some lights were all clustered together in big groups, others in smaller groups. Being introverted I opted for a small group. It looked to be about a few miles away (but as you know in this land; looks can be deceiving) so I began my trek toward it. It was slow going as there still wasn’t much light, and there were so many holes along the way. I fell in a few of them. The cold snow shocking and stinging me, and the pain shooting through me as I hit the cold dark bottoms of the holes. But somehow, of which I’m still unsure of, I always managed to find hand and foot holes to get out. 

After the last hole I fell in I was just about to give up, not even bother to climb out; when I heard familiar voices calling my name. 

As I pulled my face up past the top of the hole I noticed sitting by a blazing fire were some of my friends from back home. I was almost in complete shock: they had been called here too! I quickly pull myself up and run as fast as I can to them. As I do the sky grows dark once again…night is falling. Snow and ice begin to fall the wind picks up out of almost nowhere and the darkness rushes in…all of this about stops me but I push through and all but fall into this small encampment. 

I begin to pour my heart out to them as they rush about me, and pull me closer to the fire. As I sit down on a log marked “contemplation” they hand me some food they managed to find. It’s neatly wrapped in gold and I can feel the warmth of the meat and bread inside. On the package is written “man shall not live by bread alone.”

I recall how this sustained me on my first stay here.

Having been here before I know how things work here for those who know the One in charge of this place. You go searching each day for the food He has left us here, and each night you return to your camp before the ice and snow and darkness set in. The food is what sustains you to survive this cold and dark place. I know the painstaking work these friends of mine went through just to get me this package so with tears in my eyes I thank them immensely for sharing what they had found with me.

As I eat the meal it warms my body but also my soul. I feel rejuvenated, but also peaceful and ready for rest. I remember thinking the first time I came here “who could ever catch a wink of sleep here?” But there is a peace that surpasses understanding when you eat the package prepared for “such a time as this.”

As I find a spot close to the fire leaving room for my two friends I lay down to sleep. But all night long, in spite of the fire I was still freezing.

The next day I tell my friends about how cold it was last night. I thought that since they arrived before me, and seeing as I hadn’t been here in a long while, they would surely have wisdom and grace for how to make it through the nights in this dark place.

One offered me her blanket and an extra bedroll she had gone out to get. On it was written “The comfort with which you have been comforted may you in turn comfort another.” The other handed me warm clothes saying that she had been here for a while and had gotten more than what she needed and thought she could spare some for me.  She was also hopeful that she wouldn’t be here much longer and she believed she would get to go and see “the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.” 

The hat she gave me said “prayer”.

I knew I would need to be doing a lot of that!  The coat she gave said “God is faithful, His mercies are new each morning” and the warm pants she gave said “let patience have its perfect work.”

The boots she handed were shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace. 

These were the truths I knew I needed all the time but especially here, they would keep me warm and the cold and darkness out.

She told me that these were the things that had gotten her through her stay here, and I knew she meant it. 

A few days later a friend from back home who had been here before came to visit me. She brought wisdom with how God brought her through this and back out. Her warmth and trust toward the Lord gave me hope that I too could manage to make it through this land with that still in tact.

I’m so thankful for her willingness to come all the way back here to the dark and cold…visiting and sitting in places she hopes she has left for good. She remained close with me during some of my darkest nights. She made sure to help me keep the candles she brought burning bright.

Another friend came shortly after the first. This one would bring me a message.

 The sun had dawned but the snow and ice kept pelting that day. It was so thick I couldn’t see much past our camp but more than a couple feet.

I was so puzzled because the snow and ice and darkness always left in the morning…why then was it lingering?

As I sat by the fire I began to get frustrated…angry even at the whole deal. I hated being here. I wasn’t supposed to be here. This was a club I never wanted be part of. I didn’t ask for this. In my anger i started ripping off all my warm things tossing them aside. As I did the cold and wind and snow and ice only got stronger. The ice Stung as it hit my exposed arms and face and legs. At this point I had only a shirt and shorts on. Not exactly blizzard weathering clothes.

As I sat down on the contemplation log…actually I more slammed myself down….I was fuming. But the anger began to be mixed with sorrow… angry tears began to fall down my face. I grab my arms and dig my nails in. I hate it here. I hate what’s happened. I hate that I’m here again. Then it  hits me “I did this. I brought me here.” And suddenly I hate myself.

I am spiraling out of control. Can’t see through the tears and snow and dark and ice. Can’t feel through the cold that goes straight through to the soul stinging every layer as it goes.

But for some reason I look up, and there through the snow and ice and dark I see a form, headed toward me. As it nears I realize it’s another friend I knew a long while ago. As she comes into the light and warmth of the camp I rise to greet her and she just envelopes me in a hug. 

I figured she would judge me for not having my warm clothes on….she didn’t even notice. 

After a long while she steps back, with tears in her eyes she passes by me and walks over to the edge of the camp, as she is about to leave the camp sight she turns and motions for me to come. Says she was told to come here and show me something. I don’t like leaving camp. I know each day I have to in order to find the sustenance it takes to sustain me here but I dread this time each day. It’s hard work going out. I fall into holes a lot. 

But maybe with her here with me, it will be easier, so with that hope I follow. We head north, not a direction I’m keen of, the wind is worse from that direction. I tell her so, but she just calmly states that this will be worth it. At one point I stumble…and she comes back to raise me up and she never let go of my hand till we finally arrived at the place she was told to bring me. It felt like it took hours to get there but maybe it was only moments. In this vast wilderness time has a way of getting mixed up. 

Before me is a green house…a literal oasis in the midst of the stormy wilderness. She has a key, she unlocks it and goes inside. 

Once inside I am all excitement and questions: “what in the world?!?! Has this always been here? How come everyone doesn’t huddle in here and wait it out? I’ll go back and get my things and move in here!!” 

As I turn swiftly to leave to go back and get my things, a renewed hope has given me a strength and joy I didn’t know possible…however, my friend gently grabs my shoulders and turns me around.

In her eyes I see pain…one that feels so familiar…but I also see hope and care.

She tells me slowly, that no, I can’t stay here. And that this is only here for a short while, a respite for me. A place for me to see some of what the Man Who owns this place is up to. She said she recently found this greenhouse. And that she had been brought back here to this land for a moment of time, to be shown something and then was told to show it to me too.

With that she crosses across the floor to the far corner of the greenhouse. For a moment I take in what’s actually in here. So many plants and trees all of them vibrant and flourishing, and they all have their fruit and it’s all ripe. It’s so so warm in here. As I follow after her I grab a fresh apple and sink my teeth in. An apple never tasted that sweet before.

As I near the back where my friend is; I note that she is down on her hands and knees. And she seems to be cutting away at a raspberry patch. She urges me to come close and as I do she tells me that this plant was producing so well last year, but this year it wasn’t producing at all. She needs to cut away at it and prune it back so that it would bear more fruit. What once was fruitful was now rotted and had worms. Honestly it was repulsive and I didn’t want to help her but I couldn’t leave her to do this job by herself, there was a lot to do here I could see. So I stooped down to help her. Tears fill my eyes as I pull worms out. Then she hands me the sheers, shows me where to cut and asks me to cut. As I do I feel such pain, sorrow as have never felt, but also a joy and uplifting that can’t be explained and which do not fit with the feelings it was preceded by nor by the job I am doing. 

I knew then what she and I were being shown. She was back here to see that she needed to prune out the bitterness that had grown up inside her from

When she was here years ago. I was here to be warned not to let that happen, but also to be shown that I was being pruned…right now. That’s part of what this was all about.  That was part of why I had gotten a ticket to this place in the first place. 

With renewed valor I rise and turn to leave, she stays and keeps pruning telling me that very soon she would be on her way back home. I hug her once more and thank her for coming and thank the Lord for having sent her for “such a time as this.”

As I leave and close the door behind me and turn to face the wind, snow and ice, I’m quite pleasantly surprised to see that the sun is shining amidst a blue sky. The ice and snow have stopped and the wind has slowed to a slight breeze.The snow all around is sparkling as the sun glints off of it. I can see a storm brewing in the mountains above the valley but for now it’s sunny, and I’ll take it. As I head back toward the camp the words of another dear friend of mine echo in my heart “I want to suffer well for my Savior.”

I say it aloud once…quietly as I take a step forward. I throw my hood up and cinch it tighter as I  say it louder this time, walking a bit faster now. I say it again, putting on my gloves and pick up speed into a jog. Before I know it I’m shouting it and running back to camp. Running back to see what else God would show me….what else He wants from me. The storm may rage tonight, but I’ll be ready. 

I don’t know how long my stay here will be or if I’ll ever leave…and if I do leave I don’t know if I’ll ever be forced to come back again…but I know the One Who allowed my ticket to be given to me…I know the One Who owns this land. And it’s my faith in Him that holds me secure, for He Himself is my security!