So, this is a new style of writing for me but I truly enjoyed the effort.  WARNING: while this post is based on a true story, I assure you all my marbles are securely stowed!

She was stunning.  I have seen beautiful women in my time but none as striking as she was.  And that is all I knew about her.  I couldn’t tell you what made her so attractive. I saw her only for a millisecond before she disappeared down the airport escalator.  After two failed attempts at the computerized kiosks I was standing in line with the rest of the technologically delayed passengers when I spotted her.  I may not have seen her at all except I couldn’t take my eyes off of the family of 4 who battled with the luggage of a family of twenty.  I was envisioning the scene my own family would make when departing for Africa when I was mysteriously distracted by the fleeting presence of this phantom beauty.  I can tell you she had raven black hair and dark blood red stiletto heels.  As to her face, what she wore or what she carried I can’t recall.  Not that it mattered much as I would become increasingly familiar with her over the following 48 hours.

After exposing the anatomy of my luggage and being re-shod I galloped to my gate with blood pumping, praying my miscalculations of allotted time for check-in wouldn’t result in a missed flight.  Four doors short of my departure gate I succumbed to the consequence of my sedentary lifestyle and slowed to a walk.  As I deliberated the pros and cons of taking the moving sidewalk I noticed a woman standing near the entrance with scars of a sad departure covering her face.  As my heart went out to her I again had a spontaneous forethought of my own departure in the coming months, and suddenly found myself more deeply moved by her display.  Before I could entertain the thought further, however, I was interrupted by another brief vision of the raven beauty.  This time I did a double take at her red stilettos which I now noticed matched a patent belt securing a navy blue smock-styled dress that fit her as though it was her own skin.   I couldn’t stop myself from staring which would have embarrassed me plenty had I not discovered her own gaze fixed on mine.  I glanced at my feet to step off the moving floor and when I looked for her again she was gone.  Troubled, but without time to ponder, I raced for my plane and boarded as the door closed behind me.

Sitting silently with my seatbelt fastened I entertained the thoughts I had been too busy to consider before.  Interestingly, each time I thought of the family with the luggage or the weeping woman my heart would collapse in my chest and I would chase away the daydream of my impending African journey, which had somehow now become incredibly clear and detailed.  As I fought with my emotions I wondered about the woman I had seen and discovered a detail in my memory I hadn’t consciously noticed before.  In my minds eye I saw her necklace adorned with a silver pendant.  The pendant depicted a one inch section of a grapevine.  Hanging down the bottom of the left side was a branch donning leaves and a cluster of grapes dangling independently from the pendant.  At the top was another branch protruding from the right, but it was barren.  At the point where the fruited branch connected to the vine, was a small but sparkling diamond.  I marveled at its simple splendor and the message it implied and couldn’t shake the notion that I had seen it somewhere before.  Allowing my mind to recall her stare I eerily shook the memory and closed my eyes for a nap, concentrating my anticipations on a full weekend of  refreshment.

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It had been years since Sandy and I had the privilege of fellowship and yet somehow it seemed like we’d just hugged yesterday.  We talked of all that had happened in the spread of our absence and peppered the conversation with how the Lord had challenged us to excel in our faith.  As I shared with her the vision of our ministry and all we hoped to accomplish, she inquired of any associated fears.  I copped to a few but tried to focus on my ignorant anticipations and enthusiasm.  I glossed over the dangers and unknowns and filled the conversation with interesting facts and hallowed hopes.  As a long time friend and advisor she was quick to encourage and support our aspirations and proceeded into a welcomed monologue of wisdom and counsel.  Unfortunately, I only caught bits here and there as I had become aware of an uninvited guest looming in a nearby booth.  While I cannot deny the infatuation with her stunning appearance, the mystical nature of my travel companion now launched my curiosity into a supernatural realm.  This was no woman, I concluded; this was a spiritual illustration somehow connected to my emotions.  A little frightened by my realization I quickly took charge and tuned into the tail end of my friend’s discussion.  I successfully reengaged and managed to forget about the visitor by emerging myself in the excitement of the rest of the day’s events.  It wasn’t until the following afternoon that I was finally required to confront her face to face.

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The hub-bub surrounding my college reunion was something of a mini-vacation.  I all but forgot about, what I considered, my delusion and just enjoyed the journey down memory lane as I caught up with old friends and laughed of good times.  We travelled the halls we once called life and reminisced in rooms once home to the glory days.  My memory was intoxicating; my recollection, refreshing.  These were the days that defined me and I marveled at how God had started such a good work in me here at Bethel.  So much of where I was headed and what I had become had found its conception right here in these rooms and behind these doors.  And I’m not just referring to my education.  My spiritual re-birth took place in the tiny little chapel of the Carl Lundquist Center.  My theological arguments with God battled in many of these classrooms and offices.  My call to missions was solidified on the grounds of this place.  I met my husband and conquered our first year of marriage while under the tutelage of the leaders here.  So much of who I was and who I would become was wrapped up in these familiar surroundings.  Just being here revived the spirit that was once born here; the spirit of renewal and passion and an untarnished anticipation for what life had to share.

After the homecoming game that afternoon I took an intentional detour through campus and back to my car.  I was in no hurry and entertained every memory as they greeted me.  As I reached the other side of campus I found myself slowing my pace and longing to relive it all.  I wrestled with the reality of life present and the temptation to compare the two.  Carefree days had turned into mature responsibility.  Unkempt vitality had refined itself into poised adulthood.  Fearless ignorance had morphed into a clear understanding of the expenses due for the calculated future of my family.  I was a grown woman now with a task at hand and a call to close the lid on the cedar chest of my past.

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There was a tear in her eye as she spoke.

“So, finally we meet” she said softly.

I wasn’t surprised at the sight of her this time, though still captured by her beauty and now the tenderness of her voice.  I knew she would be here – I practically invited her.  At the mere sight of her standing beside my car I recognized her for who she was.

“I know who you are,” I said confidently.  I choked back my emotion unwilling to offer her the honor of knowing me.  “You are Grief” I said coolly.  “Why are you here?  Why now?”  She stepped forward and I could hear the hard click of her stilettos stop before me.  For reasons I am not sure of I expected her to say or do something painful so I backed away to protect myself.  She nodded knowingly at my reaction and gave a smile that unnerved me.  “Jami, I was given to you.  And for the first time you are receiving me in the spirit in which I was sent.  Timid though you are, still your heart is open to my existence”.  The pendant I hardly remembered sparkled in the sunlight.  I glanced at it and apparently wore my questions too clearly.  “You know it?” she asked.  “I don’t know how,” I replied in all honesty, “I don’t remember ever seeing you before this trip.”

“You haven’t ever seen me,” she said, “but you know Grief well”.  I tried to take offense to her implication of knowing me so well but her tone convinced me she not only had the authority to make the statement, but the ability to back it up if I pressed her to produce the evidence.

“You’re not usually so attractive,” I confessed.  “In fact, if memory serves you typically look more like a monster than a supermodel.”  My sarcasm passed her like a jet-stream and I could see she had no intention of entertaining my playful banter.  She stepped closer and this time I stood my ground and stared her in the eye as if to challenge her to an emotional dual.  The memory of her previous forms spurred fear inside of me and I began to panic that at any moment she would lunge at me, bearing hidden fangs and recessed claws.  As only a figment of my own mind actually could, she answered her fearful counterpart.  “My appearance is subject to your attitude, Jami.  If you choose to fight and doubt my intentions, I am required to become your opponent.  But I was sent here in a Spirit of love by the One who designed me.  You can receive me now as I am, an intercessor of tenderness and an ambassador of growth, or we can find one another later on less comfortable footing.”

I like to consider myself a fairly wise individual.  As Grief presented her case I compared her story with evidence from life and I knew she was right.  What choice did I have?  “If I concede, will it hurt?”  She didn’t say anything and her face wore no expression.  Instead, she touched the pendant of her necklace and lifted it away from her skin.  A single drop of sweat fell from the cluster of grapes into the dusty palm of her hand.  She rubbed her hands together and, placing her thumbs over my eyes, cupped my face.  At first all I felt were the warmth of her palms and the pressure of her thumbs darkening my sight.  Then, all at once, I saw.  I resisted the urge to recoil as memories of my future scrolled before me like an R-rated movie strip I could see from end to end.  Each square wore a vibrant image that momentarily played like video clip:  Packing my house and saying goodbye to items I wouldn’t see again for years.  Moving from my home and uprooting my kids from the only life they have ever known.  Standing in the airport surrounded by backpacks and boxes.  Holding my family members with the knowledge that some of them I may never see again.  Taking a last glance at everything familiar, knowing that by the time I return they will no longer be familiar.  Being in the majority.  Bracing for certain spiritual attack.  Saying goodbye…to everything.

With each mental photo I began to sense a stinging pain on both of my cheeks.  I grabbed her wrists and cried out “that’s enough…that’s ENOUGH” but she never let loose.  The scenes continued until finally I felt my feet give way and my heart break open.  My own tears burned the skin where her hands had been and I opened my eyes, assuming she had left me to mop up my own despair.  The sunlight; I couldn’t see anything through the blinding reflection off my soaked lashes.  Anger flared as my pride returned and loneliness assaulted my heart.  Like a lunatic I began to curse her existence and the audacity to bring me to my knees and then simply walk away. I quieted in humiliation and resigned myself to defeat.  Suddenly, I sensed a coolness on my swollen cheeks; like a cool damp cloth being applied from behind me.  Releasing my inhibitions I nestled into the comfort and melted away.  Then, I heard these words spoken in a deep, rich, quiet tone:

“I will never give you more than you can bear”.

The words adhered to my blood and circulated through my brain and into my very soul, coming to rest in the smallest, most vulnerable space of my heart.  My compulsion to see His face was thwarted by my longing to stay exactly where I was.  As my body rested and my spirit refreshed, I lifted my hand and placed it over His.  “I know who you are,” I said confidently.  “You…are Shalom”.