Welcome Home

Welcome Home
By
Tiffany Lee Truitt

It was a conversation I had hoped to have when I was very old.

“So, this is it?” I asked quietly. “Am I done?”

We stood beside each other, not looking eye to eye.

He didn’t speak, but put one arm around me, and we walked on a white sand beach, turquoise water shimmering from the light of a golden sun. Shells were everywhere, whole and perfect. The sea breeze was light, the smell of salt water in it.

I was glad I was young enough to be able to walk this beach.

“It wouldn’t have mattered if you were young, or very old,” he said.

We walked some more, his arm around me, and the sand turned to mountains, the ocean to a stream.

I was curious. “Why wouldn’t it matter?”

He didn’t speak, instead, an energy flowed from his arm, radiating through my body.
The trail was narrow, winding up the mountain, yet we seemed to fit walking side by side.

I wondered why we were alone. I had envisioned more people here.

“This is your walk. It’s just for you,” he said. “You have questions. Go ahead, ask.”

I didn’t know where to start, there were so many. And anyway, how would HE know?

It wasn’t a question I led with. “I wasn’t done,” I said, like a child being called off the playground.

“Yes, you were.” He said. And another wave of radiant energy shot through me.

“No, I wasn’t.” I tried to pull away, I wanted to face him. But his arm stayed on my shoulder, and we continued side by side.

The climb was easy. That was a surprise. We reached a meadow teaming with wildlife, a mirror lake, and soft green blankets of grass. I could see the trail continue up on the other side, but we stood still.

“There were things left undone,” I said.

“Those things are for others to finish,” he said. “It’s part of my plan.”

I stared at the meadow flooded with guilt, and fear, scared to say out loud what he had to know already.

“I didn’t believe in you,” I said, sure the meadow would burst into flames, molten lava, and brimstone.

“Yes, you did,” he said, “or you wouldn’t be standing here with me today.”

“No, really, I didn’t,” I said trembling.

Without a word the images began to flash before me. I was skiing down a mountain in feet of fresh snow, my heart pounding out my joy. I was on a mountain bike, riding the rim of a red rock canyon running the gauntlet, only to give way to pavement rushing under my wheels as I sped along the road. Water rushed under me as I rode waves, wind lifted me as I took off in flight. The visual replay got faster and faster, full of times I had loved, people I had loved. But still, I didn’t understand.

“You lived,” he said. “You loved.”

“I don’t get it,” I said trying to turn to him.

He held me tight, “look at what you did, who you touched,” his arm reached out and pointed. “You did that for me.”

My life was there before me, but only the good, how could that be?

“Forgiveness,” was all he said.

We walked through the meadow, picking up the trail on the other side.

I had expected a different result. I was confused. How could I be in this spot, after all I’d done, after denying the truth? Surely when we reached the top he would hurl me off, and into the abyss.

His arm stayed on me, guiding me up, infusing light with each step.

“Do not be afraid,” he said.

The boulders beside the path turned to faces. People that I loved, those who had gone before me, were smiling.

We reached the summit. I could see where I had come from. “They weren’t ready,” I said, watching everyone I had left behind.

“No, but you were part of their lesson,” he said, and paused.

“I am LOVE,” he continued, “and your love, the love you spread while you were there, was me.”

He dropped his arm and turned to face me.

I prepared for judgment. This was it.

I forced my eyes to his, and as I looked he turned into light. I stood outside the light watching as it grew, heated, and shone with blinding brightness.

“You have a choice,” I heard the light say.

I was not worthy, I knew it.

“You are,” I heard it clearly, “you are mine, but ultimately you have to choose.”

That light was inviting, warm, beckoning. The ultimate love was asking me in. ME!

I trembled as I took the first step, my foot turning to light. The second step was easier. Still I hesitated to take the last step. What if this was a trick?

“You’re almost there,” I heard him say.

I felt peace begin to seep into my soul, and as I took the last step it coursed through me like the raging rapids I had so loved to ride. The light enveloped me, its warmth wrapped me up in possession. As I stood surrounded by its amazing grace, tears ran down my face turning to clean white snow drifting down to settle over what I’d left behind.

“Welcome Home,” he said.

© copyright and all rights reserved Tiffany Truitt