* * *

Prologue

 I took the longest time to realize that I would never find what I was looking for if I continued to hide behind my wall....  

Hidden heart
Stay far away
Engulfed in shadows.

Forever mask
Hurt, joy, sorrow
Within in the infinite cavern
Of the mind.

  Play the stoic
For the vigilant eyes
Glowing at the crack.

  Never believe
In empty letters
Pronounced carefully
To implant pain. 

Wait, wait, wait
With aging patience
For unfulfilled certainty. 

(April 22, 1996, 5:06 P.M.)

  “I found out the hard way.  Love isn’t hearts and flowers and pretty words.  They’re the lure that hooks you in so you can’t get out when you find out what love really is.  Love is opening yourself up enough to somebody so that they know all the places that’ll hurt you....”

                 –From a short story by an anonymous author

 “Most people guard and keep; they suppose that it is they themselves and what they identify with themselves that they are guarding and keeping, whereas what they are actually guarding and keeping is their system of reality and what they assume themselves to be....One can give nothing whatever without giving oneself–that is to say, risking oneself.  If one cannot risk oneself, then one is simply incapable of giving.  And, after all, one can give freedom only by setting someone free.”             

                –From The Fire Next Time by James Baldwin          

 * * *

             “It’s time to go.”  The voice was low and gentle.  I felt a warm hand on my shoulder.

            But I don’t want to go, I insisted with my thoughts.  Just a little more time to get the thoughts, feelings, images, smells, and sounds in order...to make sense of everything...to touch each memory before I put it to sleep.

            “A few more minutes.”  The voice was firmer but not harsh.

            I sighed, running my hands through the soft, damp grass until the tips of my fingers pushed small mounds of rich brown soil against the cool stone of the wall.  I could smell the change in the breeze that lightly swirled the hair around my head.

            Change is sometimes the scariest part of the journey, but it can be the most rewarding, I reminded myself.  I don’t want to forget anything about this part of the journey....  

***

            I remember my reluctance to go out that evening.  I was tired from a long day at work, but my friend insisted that I get dressed and be her designated driver.  There was dinner and a concert afterwards...it was at an outdoor/indoor festival of sorts with beer and food booths, which emitted a smell slightly like the state fair, in the downtown area of the city.  I do not remember what I ate at dinner, but I remember a friend’s mumbled concern about an ex-boyfriend going out on a date, a conversation about dancing, a comment about Heinz having 57 varieties of mustard (...or was it ketchup?), beautifully polished cars from the 1950's and 1960's, loud live music from several directions, and a red balloon that went up and up into the darkness as I watched.  And I remember a thousand tingles from a touch...a touch that I allowed and that surprised me because I was still uncertain whether I wanted to feel again.  After some thought, I decided that the feeling pleased and amused me, so I followed it down an untraveled path and started a new journey.  

***

            She lay in his arms with her face turned from his, and she snuggled against the warmth of him as he rested his arms across her belly.  Although the rest of her body relaxed against his, her eyes were wide as the feeling of fear touched her heart. 

            “I’m afraid.”  She struggled to tell him her feelings and wondered if she should.  After all, he might not understand.

            “Of what?”  His voice was soft.

            “I don’t know.”

            “Yes, you do.”

            She did not like that he already knew that when she said she did not know her feelings, she really meant she knew but was afraid to say what they were.  At the same time, his knowing oddly increased the desire to tell him her feelings.  She knew that she needed his patience.  She squirmed a little in his arms and touched the softness of the hair on the back of his hands and fingers.  She was surprised that she liked him to be fuzzy.  “I am afraid to be hurt again,” she whispered.

            “I won’t hurt you.”

            And with that reassurance, she relaxed further, let her eyelids close heavily, and fell asleep,...trusting.

* * *

            That memory almost seemed unreal in the present. 

            But he did hurt me.  He hurt me a lot.  I also chose to let him be able to hurt me.

            “And why do you think he did?”

            I don’t know.  The sun was setting over the meadow, casting a warm, orange glow over everything in the world and brushing shadows across the stones in my field of vision.

            “You know better than to say that.”

            Especially with You.  I guess,...I guess, he is human, too.  And he didn’t know about the wall at that time.  His father said he would never deliberately hurt anyone.  I believe that about him, too....But that doesn’t make the pain go away.

            “I know, little one.  Nothing can take that away.”  His arm slipped around my shoulders as He squatted beside me on the ground.  I hugged my knees to my chest, rested my chin in the groove that formed between them, and pointed my toes downward, stretching out the arch in my foot.  His arm felt indescribably good and right around me.

            I just have to walk through the pain and learn it so well that I can taste it.  That makes me angry and impatient.

            I felt His smile and did not have to see it.  Strangely, His smiling did not annoy me.  “You’re not to become the pain but to embrace it so that it has nothing to do but dissipate.”

            Because pain that’s faced and dealt with is no longer a source of fear like pain that’s run from...avoided.  I bit my lip and picked at the dirt in my fingernails uncomfortably. 

            “You are starting to understand.”

            But I don’t have to like it. 

            “Fair enough, little one, fair enough.”

* * *

            I was feeling selfish and wanting to be protected that night.  A call had come that made me feel very insecure and worried about the feelings it stirred up deep inside me.  I wanted comfort.

            So, I called him.  His voice was pleasantly reassuring.  I entered the black of night to go to him.  Upon arrival, I sat close to him, feeling soothed  by his presence and warmth.  The television played quietly, and he watched the screen, waiting for me, as usual.  I was hesitant to speak my thoughts and feelings.  How do I put these things into words?  I did appreciate his patience.

            I opened my mouth to finally put words to the confusion inside when the phone rang.  For some reason, he rushed to answer the call, and my ears perked to hear what was happening. I could not understand the conversation, but the tone was urgent.  His body language was urgent as well.  I watched him squat beside the coffee table and write down some numbers.  The muscles in his back were tense as he leaned forward into a position that I would come to recognize readily as a sign of anxiety or concentration.  The posture contrasted remarkably with the way he appeared when he was relaxed.  

            “Did you pick up what we were talking about?” he asked, tightly.

            “Kind of.” 

            He hurriedly told me that his brother was in the hospital and might die from an asthma-related reaction.  He rushed around the apartment, engaging in multiple tasks.  As he worked, I followed, circling my arms around him a few times to try to comfort him and remaining calm in the swirl of emotions that emanated from him.  I talked about his plans with him aloud.  By the time he had everything ready to leave, the clock read 2 or 3 AM, and he looked completely exhausted.  I suggested he get a few hours sleep before driving.  He agreed and told me to go home.  I nestled down on the couch and said I was not leaving until he left.  He wanted to hold me, so I went to him and slept immediately.  Later, he did not forget to ask about my purpose for coming that night.  I told him that his brother was far more important than my concern at the time.

* * *

            “So, you wanted to take care of him.  And he took care of you.”

            Yes.  I didn’t love him then but hated to see him in so much pain.  I felt it, too,...the pain, I mean.  Even now, I wanted to cry and felt the tears well up.  I guess that was the first time I let myself think about opening up again. 

            “What do you think about opening up now?”

            I turned my head away from His gaze and let the tears smear the bright colors of the setting sun.  I don’t know.  I don’t know if it’s worth it...being so vulnerable.

            “I think you know better than that.”

            Yes.  I let the tears spill hotly over my cheeks.  I let myself come closer to the high again.  Those feelings are not to be traded or denied.  But I am afraid to feel this much pain again.

            “That sounds familiar.  What have you learned about the pain?”

            That intense feelings of love, of happiness as known on earth come with the possibility of intense pain, sadness.  That the way you know that you have loved is if when that love is lost, you feel an equal amount of pain.

            “But still, why would you form a bond with someone who might leave at any time, who might take another direction when the path forks?”

            I paused for a moment.  Because of what Robert Frost wrote.

            “And what was that?”

            A flicker of annoyance crossed my face.  But you already know that.

            “Tell me anyway.  It will help you to let yourself think through it.”

            All right.  He wrote,

           

                        “I craved strong sweets, but those

                        Seemed strong when I was young;

                        The petal of the rose

                        It was that stung.

                        Now no joy but lacks salt      

                        That is not dashed with pain

                        And weariness and fault;

                        I crave the stain of tears, the aftermark

                        Of almost too much love,

                        The sweet of bitter bark

                        And burning clove.”

 

            He means that the feeling of love automatically comes with the stain of pain and that the risk of pain is worth it if you can feel love...even if only for a

 short time. 

            “Would you let yourself feel those things again if you had the chance?  Or would you close yourself off from feeling the intense love again because it comes with the price of pain?”

            I twisted away from Him to look Him in the eye adamantly.  I brushed away the tears and steadied myself against the cool stones of the wall.  Why do you ask?  Of course I will!  I will open myself up again and again and again until I meet someone who can open himself up to the same degree and with the same intensity, who is willing to risk being hurt deeply...who is willing to risk being so vulnerable but still be strong. 

            “And that was not him.”

            I glanced at the ground before looking up again.  This time there were no tears.  It could have been....

            “Tell me about that.  Tell me about the almost.”

            That’s where this wall comes in.  I stood and faced the wall, spreading both palms against the cold rock.  I closed my eyes, letting myself re-experience. 

* * *

            The music filled the great room, and the sound was nothing like what had previously touched her ears.  Her vision tainted the beauty of what she was hearing, so she closed her eyes against the people, allowing the music to move throughout her being and to stir her soul as when she danced.  She was amazed at each and every voice she could hear, and she was reminded of what a great gift she had to be able to hear and feel...even the voices which were off-key were beautiful.  When she opened her eyes, she found him gazing at her and smiling.  She liked that he had noticed and understood even if he did not say anything aloud.... 

            They awoke to a world coated in a soft blanket of white sugar.  She thought what an amazing parting gift the snow was to them and could not wait to taste the last bit of winter with all her senses.  The wind kissed her lips, cheeks, nose, and hands with icy fingertips as he guided her on foot through the streets of the awakening city.  The fresh, new smell of snow filled her nose, and the world seemed brighter as sunlight glinted off the melting precipitation.  Later, she much appreciated the contrasting warmth and safety of the vehicle’s body as he drove them out of the city.  The purity of the snow in the mountains fascinated her because the icy flakes remained piled deep around and over trees, houses, and barns, seemingly unmelted by the sun.... 

            The wind blew slightly, encouraging them to sway as the sun set, casting pinks, yellows, and oranges across the sky and dragging the darkness to cloak the earth.  She felt his heart beat beneath her fingertips as they lay curled up in the hammock.  The safety of his arms and voice encircled her as he sang to her in a low voice.  She loved to hear him sing snippets of songs of which she could not remember the titles.  And she loved to feel the world living and breathing around her as he held her.  It made her feel more alive and strangely but comfortably at peace....

            The majesty of the monument silenced them both as they passed through the doorway, and she was fascinated at the quiet of the people strolling around the reflective pool and the sprawl of the emerald lawn.  He reached for her hand then and laced his fingers through hers.  How ironic that a place of horror and death would become a place of placid simplicity and serenity!...

            She inhaled each experience and promised not to forget....

                        * * *   

            I was trying to distance myself from these memories.  However, these were good memories and not the ones I was scared to face.  I opened my eyes to face the dark of the night sky.  The moon was a fingernail against the night’s blanket, and the stars of Orion gleamed overhead.  I shivered a little in the coolness of the dropping temperature.

            “But what about the wall?”  He was patient with my avoidance.

            I sighed and shifted a little to face Him.  I did not want to answer that one, so I did.  I guess there was a little problem of my own wall, too.  Isn’t it ironic that I wrote a poem about walls before I even consciously realized that I tend to put one up in relationships with others?  He did not reply and let me continue, which I did...but only after taking a few minutes to gather the strength to confront myself. 

            Even after I let myself think about opening up to him, I did not actually let myself open up to him for a long time.  Why?  Because I still had unresolved feelings for another. 

            “And how did you overcome those feelings?”

            I talked with the other...finally and felt peace about everything...and I made a conscious choice to go a different direction.  I became even more acutely aware of making that decision when confronted with what happened in January.

            “And what happened in January?”

            Why do You always ask questions that You already know the answer to?  I pushed Him playfully, trying to avoid thinking about the answer to His question.

            “You know why.”  He grinned.

            Okay.  To help me.  I won’t ask again.  I paused and looked down.  He told me that he did not know if he could love me.  That he wanted a soulmate.  That he wanted to feel his heart tug every time he saw the person he was with.  That he wanted to feel like hanging onto every word she said.  That he wanted to be certain that he felt love. 

            “And what did you do?”

            I was surprised.  I felt like I had been asleep and was now being awakened.  I looked at myself.

            “Like you always do.”

            Yes.  I usually assess to see what is going on inside me and then assess the other person before doing anything.  I learned my lesson from before, hopefully.  And I found that I was holding myself back...not truly letting myself see him...see his soul.  Perhaps he sensed that on some level that he was unaware of.  So, I told him...after I thought about things for a while.  And we cried...we both cried.  I told him I felt that I was supposed to play some role in his life.  And I also told him that I could live without him if I had to.  I believed what I told him.  It wasn’t so scary this time to tell the truth.  And we decided to take things a day at a time, and I decided to let myself begin to open up to feelings that I had previously not allowed.  I felt a little insecure about him and me for a while, but things got better.  I paused briefly.  But you know...I felt something was still amiss, but I could not put my finger on it...not for a long time. 

            “What became of your wall?”

            I smiled and spun around.  It’s gone!  I won’t put it up again.  I took each stone down, faced the fears about feeling love and pain...about rejection, and put them to sleep.  I had to do it by myself...with no other human beings.  And You helped me with it all.

            “How do you know you won’t have the wall with the next person?” 

            I touched my stomach reflexively with my left hand.  It’s a feeling I have...that I won’t find someone else until I am ready to open up and feel love again.  I try to be a little realistic and realize that I still have a fear of rejection and pain but that I don’t have to let that fear get free rein in my life.

            “Okay.  But what about his wall?  When did you first become aware of it?”

* * *

            “If my wife were messy, I would hire her a maid,” he maintained as he bent slightly to feed the fish in his freshwater aquarium.  “Or I would put all her stuff in the garage.”

            Thinking he was teasing because he knew she was clutter-challenged, she lightheartedly teased back, “Oh, so if I was messy, you would really put all my things in the garage?”

            He frowned at her and said with deadpan sincerity, “But you are not my wife.”

            His words hurt because she thought he had been teasing.  She bit her lower lip and turned her face from him, so he would not see the hurt in her eyes.  Later, after she had similar exchanges with him, she wondered why she felt so hurt by his words and realized that she felt as if she was a third wheel in the room with the “perfect” wife in between them....

            Another evening, he brought her home, and they sat in the dark, unmoving in the vehicle and not looking at one another.

            “I don’t want a cat.”  He sounded frustrated.

            What he said surprised her.  Although they were not supposed to talk about any sort of future together (she had decided that she never would after his earlier words about their future), he sometimes made little comments like this one that surprised her, hinting at something with which he was struggling. 

            She took his words to mean that he did not like her cat.  The words hurt her because they made her feel that she was inadequate...that her feelings did not matter to him.  She could not tell him that her cat had been her lifeline at one point...that she had wanted to die at that earlier time not so long ago, and the cat’s purrs and love had helped her live until she had rediscovered God’s infinite love, but she did not tell him this.  She just protested in return that he did not like her cat.  They bantered for a few minutes about the cat, and then, the issue was dropped.  Sometimes she thought that he did not love her because she had a cat....

* * *

            “So, how did you feel when he said those things?”  He asked gently.

            Alone, very alone.  When I felt alone, I felt my own wall starting to rise again...it was my own choice to protect myself.    

            He circled His arms around me, and I turned toward Him, taking comfort from His strength. 

            And I felt like he did not see me.  Tears filled my eyes again.

            “Did not see you?”

            Those conversations in combination with what he wanted to feel for a mate made me feel inadequate...like he did not truly see me, or he would see something beautiful in front of him.

            “That is the second time you mentioned something about what he wants to feel for a mate.  Is it different from what you want to feel or what you feel?”

            I don’t know...I guess.  I buried my face in His chest.

            “In what way is it different?”

            He wants something that I do not.  I am not looking for someone whose every word I hang onto.  That would require too much energy on my part, and I am too human to make that work.  I guess with another I learned that I will not always feel super-energized by my partner, and that the initial feelings of intense energy are part of infatuation...not love.  I want to be with someone who energizes me somewhat, but I think that I also have to energize myself to some degree and not rely on the other person for the energy.

            I also learned that I will always have doubts about who I am with, especially before marriage...it’s pretty normal.  And being aware that the doubts are normal is the first step to overcoming and dealing with them without alarming my partner.  In the past, I have expressed my doubts too much to my partner, and this has led to confusion in the relationship.  I need someone who is willing to work through his doubts and take care of himself and his feelings.  I can only take care of myself, and if I am taking care of myself adequately,...obviously not always perfectly,...then, I can give and give without feeling drained.  I need someone who takes care of himself but is not self-absorbed with inner struggles constantly...some but not constantly. 

            For me, love is a steady, safe place to exist where we can be vulnerable and treat each other with kindness, openness, generosity, and respect.  A physical, spiritual, and emotional connection exists but is not all consuming.  For me, love does not mean a constant state of connection...it wears me out just thinking about it.

            “So, you want to be with someone who takes care of himself, who is aware of and willing to work through his inner struggles, and who has realistic expectations about relationships and the feelings and doubts that go with them.”

            Yes.  How do you do that?  Summarize all those thoughts in one sentence?  I looked up at Him and wrinkled my nose in good humor.  Don’t answer that.

            “Is it okay that you wanted different things from love?”

            I think so.  But I don’t think what we each want is completely different. 

            “How so?”

            We both want a connection that lasts for many years.  We take commitment seriously, and we have similar fears about being hurt.  We both care about what the other person is feeling.  We both are willing to work hard at a relationship.  And the potential for deep love exists between us.  He just has a few things to figure out before he can allow himself to feel in a relationship.  I believe we could have worked out, but I do not know if we will ever get another chance.  I do trust You to show me the right way...even if it is with someone else. 

            He smiled.  “It seems funny that you would stay with someone who made you feel inadequate...or feel like the connection you shared was inadequate.”  

            He did not always make me feel inadequate.  On several occasions, he made me feel beautiful, and sometimes when I felt inadequate, it was partly my own insecurity...and partly his.   

            “Ah.”

            He let me go, and we both plopped down on the cooling ground and sank against the stone wall.  The normally bright-colored flowers in the field before us were colored grey in the light of the moon and stars.  I leaned my head on His shoulder.

            “Tell me more about the things he has to work through and what you did to help him.”

            Okay.

* * *

            “I am afraid you will judge.”  He hesitated.

            “No, I won’t,” I said.  “Tell me.”  I realized how insistent I was being.  “Or, if you feel uncomfortable, it’s okay.”

            After several verbal exchanges in this vein one evening after they had been seeing each other for a few months, he gave into her and told her.  He would not have told her if he did not really want to do so, I told myself.  I listened intently and promised myself that I would not judge.  Besides, who am I to judge?  Look at all the awful things I have done, and God has forgiven me.  Why shouldn’t He forgive someone else who did something that was different in nature but just as awful? 

            He told me a long story about his family.  Knowing how much he valued his family, I realized how much what happened must have hurt him.  How confusing to have to deal with difficulties within your family and not be able to do anything about it!  How hard not to be in control of the situation and to think there was no control over the feelings that went with it!  How sad that he did not realize that he had complete control over how he chose to let the situation affect him and his ability to love.... 

* * *

            He told me that he could not give to me like he should be able to give in love. 

            “What does that mean?”

            It means that he was afraid or was not willing to risk himself in order to give to me.  And if he was afraid or not willing to risk and could not therefore give, he could not love.  Why didn’t he trust me?

            “Why did he not trust himself to risk and give and love?”  He countered.

            Because it would mean he was vulnerable and would mean that he could get deeply hurt.  And he might fail and repeat the same mistakes of the past...mistakes others made....But that does not keep you safe!  That only means he continues the same pattern as he observed with others.  I sighed.  Oh, I so much wanted to help him, but...

            “But what, little one?”  His voice was low and gentle.

            I was silent for several minutes with my eyes closed.  I-I think I know how to sum this all up.  It’s like we went on part of this journey together....I paused.

            “Okay.  A little more information would be helpful.”  He did not sound impatient, just firm that he wanted me to continue. 

            It’s kinda like a story.

            “Tell me how you like.”

            Well, at first, the walk was sort of peaceful and fun and nice.  It’s like there was a brightness everywhere.  The sky was clear, the air crisp.  The trees swayed above, and the grass grew lush and thick beneath our feet.  And You were there, walking, too.  I smiled at Him, catching His gaze with my own.

            “Of course.  I am always there with you.”  Even in the dark, He met my eyes with such intensity that I looked away shyly in recognition of the love and power written there.

            Everything seemed to be going well.  Then, one day, we came to a large grey wall–this one.  I reached behind me to pat the stones.  The grass around the wall was not as green as on the earlier part of the journey, but the sun still shone brightly above.  There were few trees, and some stones similar to the ones used to make the wall lay around the edge of the wall itself.  There had been no stones earlier.  We stayed there for a while, and we had so much fun.  We danced and sang and told each other stories.  We watched sunsets and laughed.  We napped in the shade of the wall.  You were there as usual, watching us.

            “It sounds nice.”

            It was.  But one day, he came to me and showed me a sack.  I remember that day.  The sky turned grey.  As grey as the wall.  A wind blew up, and I noticed that the grass around the wall was turning brown.  Dark, ebony clouds filled the already darkened sky.  The wind began to blow harder and faster, and the leaves blew off the trees, turning crispy brown as they did so.  I huddled by the wall and looked for him, not seeing anyone but You.  The rain fell in hard, cold needles against the skin on my face and arms and legs.  I thought the day would never end. 

            “How did it end?”

            Well, just about the time the storm died, and the sun would have peeked around the clouds, night arrived.  I could see him in the distant moonlight.  He approached holding the sack.  I sat on the ground, shivering from being wet and cold.  I smiled and asked him what was in the sack.  He sat unsmiling beside me on the puddle-soaked ground, and he took out each of the loose stones that had been lying around the wall.  I had glimpsed the stones amid the grass previously but was now thrust into viewing them full force.  He handed them to me one at a time, and I gathered them in my lap.  After he emptied the sack, he stood and walked away from me.  I cried in confusion, and then, I slept, curled up against the wall, which warmed to the heat of my body. 

            The next day, the sun came out, revealing the deadness of the land.  He stood some distance from me, engaged in an unknown activity.  I tried to call out to him, but he did not respond, so all I had left to do was study the stones in my lap.  I carefully gazed at each one, studying each flaw and nick and shade and texture.  I tried to tell him about what I discovered, but he would not listen.  Those stupid stones had an amazing power over him that he did not even see.  I realized that they needed to be smashed to dessicate the power, but the more I tried to get him to study them to learn how to smash them, the more distant he became, and the worse I felt inside.  I even tried to smash them myself, but I was not strong enough.  I felt hurt and angry that he would not even look at the stones, much less try to smash them!  I literally felt like I was banging my head on the stupid wall.  I wept at the uncertainty of what to do next.

            After several days of this, I was tired of sitting and studying the stones in the same spot amid the dead grass and under the dead tree that afforded no shade from the sun.  I almost could not see him anymore.  So, I decided to move away from the stones to stand in the shade of the wall.  The wall was pleasantly cool to the touch, so I leaned my body into it, and...

            “And?”

            I fell through the wall!

            “What was on the other side?”

            I was so shocked that it took me a minute or two to recover from falling.  Then, I looked up.  I was in the greenest meadow that I had ever seen with flowers and living trees and birds.  There was even a small brook running along a dirt path to my left.  I was filled with energy and excitement.  You saw me...I was so ecstatic.  There was life ahead!  I turned back briefly to test the solidity of the wall with my left arm.  Amazingly, my arm slipped through the stones as though they were made of air!  I quickly pulled the arm back through to make sure it was still whole.  You watched me so patiently.  Then, I decided I had to tell him about the road ahead.  It was too beautiful not to share.  So, I took a deep breath, and I darted through the wall as fast as I could just in case it hardened up around me and trapped me in the stone. 

            I saw him just ahead, and I ran to him with renewed energy.  I jumped in front of him, smiling.  I called his name and told him about what I had seen.  He looked at me dully and turned away, smiling to himself and busying himself with activities.  I danced around him and sang and did everything but cartwheels to get his attention.  He almost did not even acknowledge my presence. 

            “I know; I saw.”

            Finally, I was tired, and I wanted to go back to the beauty on the other side of the wall.  Hoping I could still go through, I hurried to the barrier and leaped through.  I was so relieved.  I also felt a sense of sadness.  I cried for a while next to the wall.  I missed him and doing things with him and the connection between us.  But he never saw me. 

            “Why were you so sad?”

            Because I realized that he had to figure it out on his own...with Your help, of course.  I could not help him.

            “And where are you now, little one?”

            The corner of my mouth lifted up wryly.  I am still at the wall, waiting for him.  Which was why He and I were talking about all of this to begin with.  I knew that He was reminding me it was almost time to leave.  Persistence, I’ve discovered, is one of my greatest strengths but also one of my greatest weaknesses. 

            “And why are you still here?”

            Because I want...wanted to keep giving.  And I wanted to understand what happened before I left...something I give myself even if I cannot give it to him.

            “Why did you try to keep giving to him?”

            Because I risked, I gave, I loved.  I-I let myself be vulnerable.  I did not stop caring just because he left.  And now the only thing I have left to give is freedom...for myself, for him. 

            “And do you now understand what happened and what you must do?”

            I think so, yes. 

            “And what role did you play in creating the wall?”

            I nodded, acknowledging His words and my responsibility.  I had not wanted to admit my responsibility earlier in my conversation with Him, but it had come out in my story.  I had wanted to believe that I had no part in the wall...that I had totally torn my part down in January.  I helped create bits and pieces of it through insecurity and uncertainty and lack of communication at times.  I tried so hard not to make the same mistakes as before.

            “And what can you do about the insecurity and lack of communication?”

            Try not to do it in the future.

            “And how realistic is that?”

            Well, to some degree, the insecurity and doubts and lack of communication are always there, and humans do hurt each other and argue at times even in the best relationships.  But I can learn to minimize it....Will You help me?  I already knew the answer, and the sun was rising over the meadow.

                        * * *

            As I walked forward along the soft dirt path, He slipped His arm around my waist, supporting me with great strength and contradictorily making me feel as if I were walking on my own.  I looked up at Him, unafraid to look into His eyes for the answer to my question.

            Will I ever know what happens with the struggle?  Will I ever cross paths with him again to learn the result of the search?  Will there be an addendum to the sadness?  Will he ever take down the wall for someone?

            He looked upon me steadfastly and smiled.  “Oh, little one, you will have to wait and see what happens; you will have to wait and see.”

            Are you sure I didn’t fail him?  I asked in a scarcely audible voice, partly afraid of and partly already knowing the answer.

            “Oh, no, little one, you did not fail him.  You did everything you could to help.  It’s up to him now to face and deal with the stones.”

            Will you take care of him as you take care of me?

            “Oh, yes, always.”

            Is it okay to still feel love inside and sadness about it sometimes?  Is it okay to miss him sometimes?

            “Yes.”

            What can I do now?

            “Simply pray, little one.  That is all that is left to do.”

            I love you so much.

            “And I you.”

            Thank you.

            “You are most welcome, little one.”

            I trusted His words and drew confidence from His voice, which was steady and sure.  I gazed forward in anticipation of the path ahead and continued walking, excited once again by the journey.  Amazingly, with each step I took away from the wall, part of the pain melted away.

* * *

              “Life’s not a song
                Life isn’t bliss
                Life is just this
                It’s living
                You’ll get along
                The pain that you feel
                You only can heal
                By living
                You have to go on living...” 

                –Spike singing to Buffy in “Once More with Feeling” (by Joss Whedon, 2001)

                “The hardest thing in this world is to live in it.”
            –Dawn in “Once More with Feeling” (by Joss Whedon, 2001)