Part Nine: acceptance

 

The rest of the climb is easy because I am not focused on anything but the very real feeling that on December 8^th,  on my drive to Munich something will happen to me, I can’t shake that feeling or maybe I should say I can’t shake the knowledge. It’s as real as the fog in the valley, as real as the village hidden beneath and as real as the sun breaking over the mountain peaks to the east. I walk slowly, trying to figure out what I feel about it, I can’t say I am comfortable with it, not afraid but unsettled. It doesn’t make any sense to me and I can’t fathom all that God has been saying to me in light of this new knowledge. I reach the stone steps and don’t stop, I don’t turn to take in the valley below, with the sun finally burning through the clouds and slowly bringing the village into sight, I don’t pause for oxygen, I just keep going, lost in thought. Through the castle gate, up the long drive to the wooden stairs that lead me to the far side of the courtyard closest to the hotel side where the kaminzimmer is. I pass people on the way and smile and say hello but I don’t stop to talk, I don’t head to the kitchen for a coffee and chit chat with the chef, I am moving on autopilot to the chair before the fireplace where I will sit and spend the day thinking, praying and trying for figure out what this new piece of information reveals.

 

The Kaminzimmer is cool this morning, no fire is lit yet and so I gather a pile of wood, and stoop before the giant stone hearth to light it, blowing it when it finally catches the kindling enough to spread. When the fire is finally large enough that I can leave it untended I grab a blanket and wrap it around myself and settle into my chair. My Bible sits in my lap, but it remains unopened as I stare into the flames, mesmerized by the flickering light. I can hear a vacuum in the hall outside and the gentle clatter of dishes being cleared from tables in the dining room. I listen to the voices of the servers not understanding the polish they are speaking but comforted by the sound of people going about their lives around me and then I go back to that thought. Will I really die? Can that really be what I heard God saying? It can’t be true, I nod as if to reassure myself. No, it’s not true it’s just my silly imagination. I decide I am right and start to read my Bible, looking for more truths, more answers, more information about the rescue plan in place for humanity.

 

As lunch approaches I pull myself from my Bible and make my way through the hotel entrance to the kitchen where I fill my mug with some chicken broth and then quickly leave so as not to have to stop and talk. I place the mug at the hearth and add a log to the fire. The sounds of people working is gone, they are all eating in the student side dining room and I can almost imagine I am alone in this old castle. Three times today while reading and praying God has raised my death as as issue, each time I shrug it off, each time telling myself I am crazy and each time sensing that this is actually something I believe deep down. I sip the hot broth from my mug and allow myself to go there, to really contemplate it in my mind.  I think about the ways in which it could happen, and I finally decide that given the time of year and the roads I will need to travel that it will likely be a car accident. I think about the moment, imagining it in full colour and I surprise myself when I am not afraid. I pray only that it won’t hurt too much, and that I am found quickly so my parents don’t have to live through a search. The idea that death doesn’t scare me is new to me, but in this new place I have found with God I know that no matter how I die, how much it hurts, I will wake up with Jesus and the suffering, all of it, the physical, the mental, the emotional, all of it will end and I will be fully loved, forever.  “OK, I say out loud to God, if that’s what you want then I'm okay with it.” And the strangest part of the whole thing was that I really was okay with it.

 

To be continued…