Walk With Me (22 page)

“I’ll bury all of them,” Celeste said, “except please let me keep my favorite one.”

Faithfulness shook his head. “You will never find the Highlands as long as you are holding on to this romantic dream.”

Celeste looked out into the woods for a long time. “I cannot give it up,” she said, clutching the card so tightly that it bent in two.

Faithfulness took pity on Celeste. He put his hands around hers and helped her dig the hole. Celeste reluctantly dropped
the cards in, one by one. Then together they pushed the dirt over the cards. As they walked back to camp, Celeste felt sad for the dreams she had left behind and wondered how she would be able to be Peter’s partner without them.

Before Faithfulness left Peter and Celeste, he told them there would be other guides ahead if they needed more help. “But even if you do not find these guides, persevere. You’re on the right track. Don’t give up. Forget what is behind and fix your eyes on the Servant’s path. Be careful though, because you will see other travelers taking simpler paths in hope they will be able to skirt around Skull Hill and the bridges of forgiveness. But you are bound to come to these places on the way to the King’s City. Though they will look unpleasant, do not turn away from them. Otherwise you might find yourself so far off the path that it will be very difficult to find your way back. And it would be better not to attempt the Mountains of Maturity during the winter cold. The climb is difficult enough in good weather.”

Peter and Celeste left Faithfulness and continued through the wilderness. Celeste still pined for the comforts and dear friends she had left behind in the Orchard of Earthly Delights. She wished she could convince Peter to go back. But he was determined to march on, and she resigned herself to the hardness of the journey. Every day she felt colder than before. She was still on the path to the King’s City but her love for the King, which had once been a blazing fire, now was reduced to a handful of embers. She could have fanned it into flame, but whenever she considered the idea,
she balked at the effort it would take. It seemed easier to drag along behind Peter, who seemed in better shape. As for Peter, he was so preoccupied with the journey, he never stopped to read the guidebook or ask for the King’s help, and his heart had also turned cold.

They struggled to make their way over tree roots and rocks on the narrow path. It took all their concentration not to trip and fall. They had forgotten that when they relied on the King, He gave them His strength, and then they could be sure-footed like deer, leaping up to the heights. Instead they trudged on slowly and the cold became colder. They had given up their postcard visions but hadn’t replaced them with a warm love for each other. Peter didn’t think to help Celeste over the difficult spots, and Celeste didn’t bother to say anything if she noticed a better route. And as a result, they suffered a deep chill that shivered them to the core.

The path became steeper, but they kept on going. If they had been talking with each other, one of them might have suggested they stop to look at the map. They might have checked their supplies and searched for an opening in the trees where they could see how far it was to the next camp. Then they would have seen the path was leading them up a steep slope that ended abruptly at the snow-covered Loveless Peak—without any way to continue. And they would have noticed a fierce winter storm was gathering in the west.

Instead, they assumed they were heading up one of Mountains of Maturity and they kept walking up the sharp incline. Out of breath from the climb, they finally came to a halt. But they didn’t check their bearings. They only wanted to lighten their loads, and
they went through their packs to see what they could leave behind. Then they did the most dangerous thing of all: they took out their kingly gifts and kept their heavy burdens.

They struggled on as valiantly as they could. The trail, which had been taking them up the southern slope, curved to the east. After a brief stretch, it brought them to the north side of the peak. Clouds moved in and blocked the sun, bringing a frosty bite to the air. Even though their bags were lighter, they struggled to make the climb, and they hoped the path would soon flatten to make the journey easy again. But the trail curved around the slope and brought them to the north side of the peak. Ahead of them lay a treeless expanse covered in deep, crusty snow that led all the way up to Loveless Peak. Peter and Celeste gaped at the challenge before them.

“How did we get here?” said Celeste, irritated that Peter had not stopped to check the map. “We’re getting very high up, but this doesn’t look like the Highlands. I don’t see how we can go on. You know how tiring it is to climb the smallest hill with the little travelers.”

“Faithfulness told us to press on and keep straight ahead,” Peter said. “Weren’t you listening?”

“Yes, but he didn’t say anything about snow.”

“He said that if we came to an unpleasant stretch, we shouldn’t go around it or else we would end up too far off the path.”

“I think we should set up camp here and figure out another way to go. The little travelers are complaining that their fingers and toes are tingly.”

Their feelings for each other had turned to ice and without
their kindling of affection or their sheepskins of humility, they spent a frigid night huddled together. The next morning they continued up the peak. A harsh wind arose, and soon the air was filled with snow. They could barely see the path. Perhaps that was just as well, because it took them across a jagged ridge with a vertical drop-off on either side. How long they walked like this, they did not know for their journey together seemed frozen in time. Peter trudged ahead to blaze a trail through the deep snow, carrying one of the little travelers on his shoulders. Celeste lagged behind with the other two. The snow turned into a blizzard, and icy flakes stung their faces. They valiantly pushed on, afraid that they would freeze if they stopped. Indeed, if Peter and Celeste had not been carrying the little travelers, who shared their own warmth, they might not have made it.

Finally the wind died and the snow lightened. In the faint winter sunlight they could see the path leading straight up to Loveless Peak. “Maybe you can climb it yourself,” Celeste said, “but I’m going back down with the little travelers.”

“You won’t be able to find the way.”

“If we go on, we’ll die of hypothermia.”

“All right,” Peter said. He began to lead them down, retracing their steps as best he could. The little travelers didn’t mind the journey. They threw snowballs at each other and jumped off the drifts, remembering the fun they used to have in the Orchard of Earthly Delights. Then one rolled into a snow-filled gully and found, buried in the snow, a sign for a warming hut of revelation. Peter and Celeste saw the sign, but they didn’t stop to look for the hut. As cold as they both were, neither wanted to talk to a guide.

The sun set and the moon rose over the snowy slope. They continued descending through the night. Occasionally Peter paused to let Celeste catch up with him, but as soon as she drew near, he would start walking again.

Finally Celeste could no longer bear it. “I have to stop and rest.”

“Go ahead.”

“Won’t you wait for me?”

“I already have.” He began walking again.

“You are the most insensitive, mean, heartless person I have ever known!” Celeste yelled.

Peter turned around and yelled back. “It takes one to know one!”

Their echoes reverberated around the peak, loosening the snow. They heard an ominous rumble and in another instant, an avalanche was rushing down the slope. Celeste managed to grab two of the little travelers, and Peter reached for the third.

“Swim,” he told Celeste. “We have to swim through the snow.”

They flew through the cold darkness, terrified they would not survive. But when the night was again finally quiet, they found they all had landed in a clump at the bottom—except for one little traveler who was stuck upside-down in the snow and had to be dug out.

In the light of the growing dawn, they could see they were in a sorry state: their packs bent and torn, bruises everywhere. They brushed the snow off the little travelers. Celeste scowled at Peter, thinking how he had almost killed them all. Peter glared at Celeste, thinking he would have never yelled if she hadn’t yelled first.

“We should stop and warm ourselves,” Celeste said.

“With what? All our extra clothes are cold and damp from the snow.”

Tears came to Celeste’s eyes, and she closed off a little more of her heart to protect it from the hurt she felt.

They resumed their journey. There was no sun that day, and the clouds sank lower and lower until they were walking in a fog. They could barely see their cords of commitment, but they could feel them chafing their wrists in the cold. Then the path turned to a toe-numbing slush, and Peter and Celeste had to carry the little travelers to keep their feet dry. They tramped on in silence, just as they had when they crossed the Plains of Distance, and the soggy, muddy snow stayed with them for a long time.

I
n my dream I saw how far Peter and Celeste had wandered from the path to the Highlands—and how much harder they had made their journey to the King’s City. Yet as dark as their way appeared, there was still much hope, for the King would never stop caring for them. Indeed, He was waiting eagerly for them to turn to Him, so He could lift their burdens. Though they had given up their kingly gifts, spurned the help of His guides, and no longer read His guidebook, yet He would restore them, if only they would take His grace. His deepest desire was to give them everything they needed to continue their journey. But Peter and Celeste became so preoccupied with taking care of the little travelers that they no longer stopped to consider all the King had done for them. They forgot how He had provided food for them and how the Servant had forged the knife of grace. But the King
still cared for them and helped them soldier on through the slush.

After a time they found themselves heading across a plateau of scrub desert, much like the Plains of Distance except the plateau was even hotter and drier. At first they were glad for the change from the numbing cold of Loveless Peak. But soon they regretted the new path, for there was no shade or any oasis where they could get water. So when they came to a trail that had been cut through the plateau by an ancient river, they followed it, hoping to find a stream.

Deeper and deeper they descended until they reached the bottom of Desolate Canyon. Tall rock walls blocked the sunlight, making the canyon as gloomy as a dungeon. They found no sign of water but lacked the strength to climb out of the canyon, so they started down the sandy channel. Soon the path was covered with little stones, but neither thought about how they used to kick pebbles together. Then they came to a stagnant stream dribbling out of the canyon wall. The trickle looked harmless, but Peter and Celeste didn’t realize they were at the headwaters of the River of Unfaithfulness, fed by runoff from the melted snow of Loveless Peak. They didn’t know that as the river went on, it broke off into many branches—making it easy for couples to become separated from each other—before it ended in the Valley of Cut Cords.