A Story...

She entered the gardens through the arched entrance, glancing up at the luscious wysteria as she passed beneath. Looking down, she again admired the smooth stone path. She breathed a sigh of peace. She felt at home.

To her left was the path that led to the gazebo by the lake, to her right, the open expanse of gardens where the trees and flowers hummed with life. Directly in front of her, the stone path disappeared around a large hedge and wound its way to the valley below. She turned left and headed toward the gazebo. She knew he was coming and she planned on meeting him there. Her steps were light as she climbed the short stairs and walked to the center of the gazebo. She slowly turned in a circle, letting her senses soak in the enchantment of this place. The warm, soft light…the delicate fragrances, the sounds of water gently lapping at the shore. This place is like a dream, she thought. Only my dreams aren’t so peaceful. She sat on a bench, and noticed a tiny flower petal stuck between her toes. She reached down and removed it. When she straightened, she stifled a small gasp as she realized she was no longer alone. He stood there, grinning with joy at seeing her again. She flew into his arms and gave him an enormous hug. He lifted her and swung her around, loving the laugh that burst from her lips. He loved seeing her happy.

He gently set her down and walked to a bench and sat. She settled herself near him, in a place where she could easily see his face. He’s just as I remember him, she thought. Those deep blues eyes, the radiant smile, the wavy hair. Though taller than I remember. The top of her head reached the top of his shoulder. Maybe I’m just used to being around shorter people.

Now that the time had come, she momentarily forgot what she had wanted to ask him. He simply smiled and looked at her, waiting for her to gather her thoughts. I don’t have a lot of time, she thought. Where do I even start?

“Anywhere,” he said.

She raised an eyebrow at him and grinned, remembering how good he was at reading and knowing her thoughts. It could be a little disconcerting at times. He only grinned back, letting her know he hadn’t changed.

Before she knew it, she was blurting out the first thing that came to her mind.

“Why am I still so sick? Why haven’t I been healed?” She felt a bit foolish asking this again. What was wrong with her? His smile faded into a look of infinite tenderness.

“You haven’t learned all you need, yet.”

She knew he was right, but couldn’t fathom what else she could learn from this experience. She was so tired and ready for it to end. It was taking its toll.

“Then I will be healed when I have learned what I need?”

“Its up to you,” he replied evenly. She almost rolled her eyes at him. They’d been over this before. Its my choice, when I choose. If it really were up to her, she’d have chosen to be healed months if not years ago.

Attempting to appear as though she was not sulking, though probably failing, she asked, “What do I still need to learn?”

“If, when the time comes, you make the decision to not heal, just know that's okay, too. You don’t have to be healed if you don’t want to be. If you choose to keep this illness, I will do all I can to help and support you through it. I love you no matter what you decide.” It took her a moment before she realized he was finishing his answer to her previous question. Her jaw dropped. Did she really just hear that? From him? Why wouldn’t I want to be healed?

Just then, she heard a distinct thud and her baby girl start to cry. She opened her eyes and quickly got to her feet. She hurried out of her room and down the hall. In the kitchen she found her little daughter, sitting on the floor in a pile of books she’d pulled down on top of her. As she soothed the tears she wondered, How do people ever actually finish their prayers?