Letters from Heart's Content

Walker helped the other older children collect the dishes and wash them up with heated water on the campfire. They left them upside down on a board to dry. Sophia played a game of hide and seek with the other children in the moonlight. When the dishes were done everyone came back to the fire-ring where the sacred fire crackled.

With a twinkle in his eye, Grandpa said,

“Knock knock.”

“Who’s there?” they all replied.

“Who.”

“Who who?”

He looked around. “Do I hear an owl?”

They hooted in laughter. Then Grandpa said to the teens, “Abigail and Josiah, you built the fire-ring tonight. It’s strong and secure. Best one yet. Well done.”

Betsy said, “Tell us a story, Grandpa.”

“All right. Let’s see. Once there was a stone named Rocky. He sat like a lump in the road all by himself. He said to himself, “I am really lonely and bored.”

Abigail interrupted and said, “Grandpa, I thought you said he was a rock, not lumber.”

Grandpa smiled and shook his finger at her in a pretend scolding. “I said ‘he was bored’, not ‘he was a board’.”

He continued. “So, there he was, bored. Wishing he had family. Along comes a girl who really liked building with rocks. She collected a pile by the lonely stone and cleared the sand off a flat part of ledge. She began to make a wall on the foundation. She made four walls. She built up tall sides. She even found a way to make a roof of stones. Then she went home to her supper.

“That night Rocky made friends with Mica, Schist, Bowlda, Igney, Meta, Sedi and many more, nestled close together. They became a family. The girl came back and put a lantern among them so they served as a guidepost on the trail for people on a journey. The end.

He continued, “The King is building all his people into a temple made of stones. Whenever we gather together we share the stories of the things he does to protect, guide, and feed us. The light drew us to him and lights our way.” said Grandpa.

“With bread and wine we remember how he freed us from slavery.” He took a warm biscuit, pinched off a small piece for himself and passed it around. Each did the same and held it, gazing into the fire or looking up at the moon. When they each had a piece, they raised their bread to the starry sky and said, “We remember the King who died to free us.” They ate together.

Then Grandpa poured wine into a cup and took a sip. They each sipped and wiped the edge with the clean cloth that came with it. He passed the cup to his right and it went around the ring. When it returned to him he held it up and they said, together,  “We remember the King who rose again and is alive forever!”

Grandpa said, “Remember, we are all living stones shaped by his hands into a house that will last. Sleep well.”  Grandma got up and stretched and Betsy yawned.

Walker was thinking how good it felt to be full and safe with others around him. He felt something nudging him over and over and realized he has nearly fallen asleep right as he sat and that Sophia was poking him rather painfully in his shoulder.

“Ow! What?!” he said

“Walker! Say the riddle!”

“Seek the burning embers where 
the living waters run;
A house of stone remembers there 
the death of the Living One.”

“Oh oh oh!!” he shouted. “It’s here! It’s right here!”

Priscilla ran to his side. “What is here? Is it a snake? What’s the matter?”

Walker then told the rest of his story. How he came through the town of Cold River. How they were in danger of the Wolf’s army because their sacred fire was cold. How he volunteered to ask the king to send a hero to bring back sacred fire. And that he was given a riddle.

“The riddle is ‘Seek the burning embers…’” He pointed to the fire. “Right there! ‘Where the living waters run…’ The living waters ran when we were talking about the King! ‘A house of stone…’ Just like Grandpa said, we’re the house of stone. ‘…remembers there the death of the Living one.’ The King is the Living One and we did that with the bread and cup!”

“But,” he sat down slowly. “How do I get the fire to them? What am I supposed to do?”

As soon as Walker and Sophia entered the narrow rocky trail they knew they were in trouble. The path went steeply down. Huge boulders in the way forced them to go around. Loose stones from the cliff littered the path so that they were in danger of sliding. After an hour they were breathing hard and their legs were burning from the effort.

The red sun cast long shadows as it set. They knew they had to stop for the night. They spotted a shelter in the gloom of dusk and, sure enough, a heart-shaped rock hid the key for the front door. It was more rustic than the other—no beds, no bread and cheese, no dishes. It did have sleeping bags, though, and a wooden box held beef jerky and dried fruit. A clear brook ran close by and the water refreshed them. They slept on the floor.

The next morning there were up and out the door into a clear sky. They drank from the stream and refilled their flasks. It was hot already.

For hours they went down, down, down the mountain. They often had to stop to rest their sore legs and catch their breath. At midday, when Sophia was beyond the next turn ahead of him, Walker drew out his kayline and spoke softly into it.

“King, this trail is so hard. Surely we have lost our way? Did we miss a turn? Are we still on the King’s highway?”

In that moment he caught a glimpse of blue and when he turned to look more closely, he saw the three blue strips of the King’s Way. That felt like an answer so he pressed on. “Can you send us on a path that’s not so hard?”

The kayline was silent.

Walker caught up with Sophia. She had climbed up on a high rock so she could sit in shade under a stunted tree.  “I’m taking a water break,” she said. “It’s so hot! Do you think we’re lost?”

“No,” he grunted. “We just passed the blue stripes. This is the Way.” He sat beside her and slumped back on the trunk.

“This is so hard!” she said softly. She wiped at her eyes.

They sat until their breathing slowed. Then he said, “I remember what I read in The Letters this morning. It said, ‘Give thanks in all things.’”

“Huh,” said Sophia, startled. “That’s…interesting.”

Walker closed his eyes and said, “Well, uh, thank You, King, that we had shelter last night, water for our bottles that got us this far, and…and for this shade.” He opened his eyes.

Sophia said with a hint of a whine, “My legs are getting wobbly with all this downhill walking. I hope we reach the valley soon.”

From their perch they could see far in the distance. Their trail would eventually take them off the mountain into a flatland of red sand, red canyons, and huge red rock formations. They saw no trees. The sun glared without relief.

It was time to get going. As they hopped off the rock, Sophia landed badly. She fell hard, face first, scraping her hands so that they stung. Walker was dismayed when he saw that they were bleeding. But then, when she tried to stand, pain shot up from her ankle. She sat down with a cry.

Walker got down and gently moved her foot and they decided it wasn’t broken, just sprained. But she couldn’t stand by herself.

Sophia told him now, “I read something like that. I read, ‘Give thanks for all things’. So here goes. ‘Thank you, King, for this twisted ankle!’” They laughed a little at that. How could it be a good thing that she was hurt?

They walked side by side now, Walker helping with his arm around her.

As the day went drearily on they grew terribly thirsty. They were almost out of water, so they just wet their mouths with drops from their bottles.

At long last they came to level ground. They drank the last swallow of warm water as the sun dropped below the horizon. They stumbled on for a while in the dusk looking for a stream but didn’t see any sign of water. Tired and hungry, they sagged to the ground.

“Bag,” panted Sophia. “Water in the King’s bag.” Walker had already tried, but he reached in anyway. Nothing. No water flask came to him or to Sophia.

“King!” wailed Walker. “Why aren’t you giving us water?!”

When Walker and Sophia woke the next morning, they found Wiley had already left, taking a portion of the bread and cheese for his journey. They finished off the bread and cheese and tidied up.

They each took time to read something in The Letters. Walker read, “No temptation has overtaken you but such as is common to man, and God is faithful who will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you are able, but with the temptation will provide the way of escape also, that you may be able to endure it.”

Walker and Sophia picked up their bags and left the shelter, laying the matches near the lantern, locking the door, and placing the key under the heart-shaped rock.

Later in the morning they met a shepherd moving his flock across the lane. His sheep looked contented and well-fed. He smiled kindly at them. “Hello, travelers! Where are you headed?”

“We’re going to King’s Court,” said Walker, sensing his trustworthiness.

“I know that way well. You are headed in the right direction. But it gets tricky. Don’t take a wrong turn. Look for the blue paint marks of the King’s highway.”

They thanked him and continued. They entered a forest that kept them cool most of the day. In late afternoon they emerged to an extraordinary sight. On their right was a wide field full of wildflowers, their colorful blossoms nodding in a gentle breeze. In the field, faint trails with bent flowers told them many others had walked freely through. On their left loomed a rock wall. Ahead, the road narrowed to a path winding around fallen boulders. Walker saw lines of blue paint on the farthest. Three solitary black locust trees grew along the field. They stopped in the shade of the first and admired the view.

Sophia said, “The flowers are so beautiful! All the colors of the rainbow. Let’s go that way.”

A cheerful voice called from above them in the black locust, “Welcome to Wildflower Way!” Something whizzed by Walker’s face and landed in the grass. He instinctively drew his sword. He looked down at an acorn and up into the grinning face of a cheeky squirrel looking down at him through the leaves. The squirrel playfully lobbed another acorn at Walker, who dodged.

Walker grinned. “Hello Mr. Squirrel! It is beautiful, but our path is over there.” He pointed to the rock marked with blue and Sophia now saw it for the first time. “Stick with the narrow path. Wide is the way that leads to destruction,” he said quietly to himself, swinging his sword. Reluctantly they continued down the road.

Under the second tree they each felt an acorn smack on their heads. “Ouch! That stung!” grumbled Sophia. They looked up at an unsmiling squirrel. “The King says to go this way,” he said, gesturing toward the open field.

Walker’s kayline stayed cool but he remembered and recited out loud, “I will instruct you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with my eye upon you.” “No thanks, Mr. Squirrel,” he said firmly. Sophia looked a little scared and stepped closer to Walker.

Before they had made it to the shade of the third tree they were greeted with a storm of acorns. They hurt! A furious squirrel jeered at them as he and a scurry of squirrels threw acorns like darts. “You are King’s people? You won’t walk through our field? Why do you hate us? Take that, and that, and that!”

Walker stood a moment stunned at the unexpected hostility of squirrels, but then remembered his haversack. “Sophia! The King’s bag!” He tossed his sword into his left hand and reached in with his right and something filled his palm. He grasped and pulled out a shield and held it between his head and the fierce bombardment. Up went his sword, too, and he shouted, “You, O King, are a shield about me, my glory and the lifter of my head!” He held his head up as confidence surged in him. Their shields deflected acorns, tink-tink tink.

“Come on!” shouted Walker. They ran beyond the trees and entered the rocky track.

Late that afternoon as Walker and his two companions, Sophia and Wiley, continued on the King’s highway, the sky grew dark and thunder growled in the distance. Sophia watched anxiously along the road for traveler shelters and found one just in time, for the hard rain was coming up the valley. “Come on! Up there!” she said.

They ran up the path and stood under the porch roof while Sophia paused in the rain to look under a rock. She unlocked the door, and they charged in, laughing in relief. Lightning flashed and thunder cracked.

“Oh!” said Sophia, shaking off water. “I am so glad the King had his servants build these cabins. I’ve needed them a few times, when I got caught by night or bad weather.”

“Nobody minds if we stay here?” asked Walker, who was new to the Way. He put down his haversack and looked around.

“The King provides, “ she said, as sat on a bunk bed. She took off her shoes and socks and wiggled her toes. “He placed these shelters along the way. He is so good to us.”

Wiley grunted and plopped down on the other bunk. “This one’s not bad. But that’s not how it happened with me. The last one I stayed at was a waste.”

Sophia looked at him, incredulous. “What? How can that be?!”

“Tell us what happened,” said Walker, sitting in the rocking chair.

“Okay, well. I’m walking along this road and it’s getting dark, see? I can barely see the road. But I see one of these houses. I go up and knock on the door. No answer. No light, either. The door didn’t budge when I tried it. I went around back and saw a  stone firepit. There wasn’t any wood, so I looked around for branches I could burn, but it was too dark to see. I had a few crackers with me so I ate those. I lay down in the grass but didn’t sleep much. I was cold and there were things rustling in the grass. I was glad to get out of there the next morning. I didn’t think it was so great.”

Sophia stared at him. “But didn’t you find a list of instructions about the shelters in your bag? Didn’t someone at least tell you about them?”

“Well, some guy told me a bunch of stuff I had to do if I ever needed one but I figured I didn’t need “instructions”. I don’t need a bunch of rules. I live my way,” said Wiley.

Walker turned to Sophia, “Did you ever find one in the dark?”

Sophia said, “Yes. I pulled the instructions out of the King’s bag and it told me I would find the key under a rock that looks like a heart. I opened the door and went in. Next, I was supposed to find a full oil lamp three steps forward and one step to the left, and matches behind it. They were there and I lit the lamp. Then I was able to see the skinny wood door in the wall for the food pantry, where I got what I needed for supper. In a wooden trunk under the window were sleeping bags rolled up and I took one for the bunk. Across from the beds was a woodstove and alongside it was a box full of firewood and kindling. I had everything I needed.”

Walker stood up and looked around. He lit the lamp. He took wood and kindling and got a merry fire going so their damp clothes could dry. He found the well-stocked pantry and made supper for the three of them. Sophia rolled out the sleeping bags, and then, assured that Walker had supper under his control, she pulled out her sketchbook and sat before a mirror to draw a self-portrait. Wiley watched them and when he saw no one was watching him, he reached for Walker’s haversack.

When Walker woke on the second day of his unexpected journey, he remembered the counsel of the shepherd, “Read from the King’s letter every morning.” Since it was the King’s letter that had given him a new life and had comforted him over what he had done, he was eager to read. He flipped to his bookmark and this is what he read:

“My dear brothers, take note of this: everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry.”

Walker thought, I did listen to the people here in town. I’ll do what they told me to do. I’m taking the message to the King’s court so a Hero will go on the quest and bring embers to Cold River.

Betty greeted him with a smile when he came down to the kitchen. “Good morning, Walker! You’ll eat a hearty breakfast and then be on your way. I’ve packed a lunch.”

“Thank you!” he said. And after he had eaten, he packed up and went to the door. Betty had sketched out a map to the King’s Court. He thanked her and started down the road, and waving one last time as the house disappeared from view. As he walked he recited the riddle a few times:

Seek the flaming embers where
the living waters run;
a house of stone remembers there
the death of the living one.

Late in the morning he saw a girl coming down a mountain path and waited for her. She looked to be about eight years old, with dark hair and brown eyes, and carried a bag on her side like his.

“I’m Walker.”

“I’m Sophia. Let’s walk together. Where are you going?”

“I’m going to the King with a message for a Hero.”

“You’re bringing a message to the King’s Hero? Wow! Can you tell me what it is?”

“Sure!” he said. “It’s a riddle.” He recited it.

“Oh! I’m good at riddles! Have you figured it out? No? Let’s see if we can guess it. That ‘living water’, could that be—”

“No, no,” interrupted Walker, annoyed. “I’m not supposed to solve it.”

“Yes, but, if we have an idea what it is then we can watch for it and…”

“No! no, no, no!” said Walker, more upset now. “It’s for the Hero! It’s not for us.”

“But, you should learn what it means because we might see it on the way!”

But Walker had put his fingers in his ears and sang rudely, “La la la la la la,” so she gave up and fell into stubborn silence.

After he noticed she wasn’t talking, he said angrily, “You’re too bossy! Don’t tell me what to do. I’m only a messenger. It’s not my job to figure out the riddle—it is the Hero’s.”

“Okay, fine,” she said. “You don’t want help. I won’t bother you. Hmmph.”

“Hmmph,” said Walker.

She slowed down so he could get ahead and they walked on that way, single file, twenty feet between them. When they stopped for lunch they sat apart and ate alone.

An hour later, still walking alone together, they came to a crossroad, and slumped on a boulder was a boy who looked to be about twelve. His clothes looked old and shabby and he scowled as they came up to him. After they all introduced themselves, he said, “I don’t suppose you know the way to—”

“—to the King’s Court?” interrupted Walker. “That’s where we’re going!”

The boy, whose name was Wiley, gave them a thoughtful look and nodded.

“We could all go together,” suggested Walker happily and he turned away to pick up his bag. But Sophia watched Wiley’s face and felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

“Yeah, sure,” said Wiley as he got to his feet. “I’ll go with you.”