As soon as we cross the threshold of the cave, calmness washes over me. We are on the plains. There is yellow grass all around us, dotted with an occasional tree or shrub. We are at the edge of a farmer’s field, just inside of a barbed-wire fence. Amber is different here. She is still silent and continues to move forward, but I am beginning to see glimpses of joy dancing within her. I see flashes of her running and leaping through the fields in a flowery summer dress. Then, the picture reverts, and she is walking forward, head low and quiet, like one returning from their forty days in the desert.
I look around as we continue across the farmer’s field. Just ahead, maybe a hundred paces, there is a farmhouse nestled within a crop of trees. Our path does not lend itself directly toward the farmhouse but slightly to the right, where we will likely skim along the edge of the trees. I can sense Amber is not all the way ‘here’ yet. So, I continue to follow her, letting her lead our next steps. I don’t know why she does not walk alone, like all of those I have guided before her, but I know she needs me here, following closely behind. So, here I will be.
As we come around the farmhouse, there is another small field. The crop has been harvested, like in the first, and the stump is yellow and dry. It must be late fall here, just as it is at home. Just beyond this smaller field is the edge of a wood. I wonder for a moment, to whom this farmhouse might belong, but I do not ponder too deeply. Whatever the farmhouse represents, it is not why I am here. I am here to help Amber find the cabin.
The edge of the wood is evergreen trees, and just through the thick of it, I can see a grove of Aspen. Instinctively, I know; just beyond the wood, there is a meadow, where a horse grazes, and a beautiful goddess sits inside of a log cabin waiting for the final portion of her soul to come home. I feel the presence of the place as I follow Amber across the field and into the trees.
Our journey through the trees is not long. It is mere moments before we come through the trees to the meadow. The sun shines brightly on the small field where a horse grazes. We stop at the edge of the clearing, and Amber turns to hug me. She is crying, and I can feel she is thankful, but she does not have words.
“You’re welcome.” My words are no more than a whisper in her ear. Then, I pull her away and look into her eyes, “Listen to me. You are an angel, and you are a gift to the world. I so appreciate your willingness to let me get to know you. I am honored to have met someone like you.”
She almost smiles before turning to run through the meadow. As she passes, the horse snickers, and she reaches a hand out to him with tears in her eyes. I feel her heart speak to him, but she does not stop. She runs to the house instead.
Warmth is visible through the open cabin door as she enters. Dusk-like light illuminates a large, soft rug in the middle of the floor. At the edge of the rug sits a rocker. In it is the beautiful, blond Goddess I saw on my last visit to these woods. I can sense the presence of a child somewhere, but she is not in view or even visibly separate from the woman.
Amber moves to sit on the floor, at the foot of the rocker. She lays her head in the lap of her true self, and here she is comforted.
As the purest part of Amber nurtures the final part of herself to return home, she looks up and mouths the words, “Thank you.”
This time, I say, “You’re welcome.”
Walking to the cabin door, I close it. Over the next several days, these women will become one, and Amber will finally be at peace.
As I travel back, along the meadow, I stop for a moment to pet Patrick. “Help her find her true joy,” I say, and he snorts, offering a nod. He knows what I am asking him to do.
I return through the woods and past the farmer’s field to the door of the cave. Here, I walk inside and turn to seal it shut. I travel through the darkness, praying for these fears, giving them my love and healing. The tunnel quietly caves in behind me, once again obscuring the path to where Amber is. If she is to come to this plane now, she will come a different way. She will learn a new course, known only to those who have crossed.
I return through the space Amber called home when she lived on this Earth, the home she carries with her in her soul, the inner self she knew as her humanness. I bless it all, and I pray. I know when I leave, this place will no longer exist. Amber will no longer be the individual she was here but will be part of the essence that feeds the entire world. She will bless small children in rural countries who do not have the necessities we find to ‘not be enough.’ She will bless women living battered lives who have allowed their souls to be taken by those who do not possess one of their own. She will fill them again.
She will be with those who fight for freedom which is not even their own; comforting them when they try to sleep, nurturing them when they cry, knowing they never really wanted to be away from their families fighting a battle that is not their own and forgiving them when they take life, no matter what side of ‘truth’ they defend
She will be part of what makes the world change and grow. She will be a part of the peace we achieve. When people pray, they will pray to her, and she will answer. When they call for angels, she will come, and she will do great things–things we can only imagine while in these limited bodies.
She is finally all of the truth she imagined herself to be. She is peace and joy and will be guidance to any who call her. She is finally her true self. All her pain is gone.
She will be the source of strength that fills us when we must face what we feel we cannot. She will be the kind of faith the helps us move through the darkness, the faith of which we read, but have seldom seen, faith beyond what we previously understood. She will share this faith with the world. During a time when it is so desperately needed, she will be a light that shines. When it seems all confidence is lost, when the world is in the kind of blackness where we believe more in our fear than we do in our faith, we can call her for help.
She is a name, like all of the other names to which we call. Her name is added as one of the great teachers, as one who went beyond the boundaries of faith and redefined its worth. This is a profound act of courage.
She is a gift the world desperately needed, and I am grateful to have witnessed her journey, if only for a moment. I will be forever changed by my experience with you. I feel her potential here with me now, calling me to be more than I have ever been, and I see a glimpse of the impact she will have.
“Thank you, Amber. To me, you have redefined the word ‘faith.’”