The Girl, The Friend, and a Well

Once upon a time, I was on my way to hike in this beautiful landscape. I thought it was something only found in fairytales, but there it stood before my eyes. Any more excited, I could not have been. I had a plan, and nothing was going to preventing from making my simple dream come true. I’ve had some people persuade me not to go along the way. They all failed to get me out of my path. My heart knew I needed to be at the mountain top, and I was not about to get distracted.

A few steps in, I noticed a person who seemed a bit beaten up and sad but with kind eyes. I carried on, but somehow he’d appear at every turn. Eventually, I stopped and asked him to join me on this well worthwhile trip. The power of the up high would help him, too, in some way. He began walking with me but kept stopping every so often. My new friend frequently made stops to admire the scenery. And while that seemed sweet at first, it began to slow me down, so I would annoyedly carry on without him. Quickly, he would pick up his pace, leaving no room to realize the messiness of the situation.

Suddenly,

We were competing to see who could reach the top the fastest. It was exciting. I was glad to have found someone willing to fulfill my goal. I earned a few bruises from the falls I’d experienced due to my lack of running experience. And my so-called friend would make fun of me and continue running, only to return right before I scrapped off the dust and picked myself up. I sensed something caustic about him, but his eyes and stories held so much pain that I couldn’t possibly blame him for his lack of chivalry.

Everything was happening so fast that I would focus on the few good times and neglect the bad over-occurring ones. What else could I do? I needed to stay sane. I had a plan to stick to, but now this new friend needs my help finding his happiness. He had been so hurt; I couldn’t be another source of misfortune for him. So I refused to overthink the negativity and found comfort in those counted times I felt tears of joy rather than sorrow.

I kept getting calls from my parents through it all, but there tends to be lousy reception when you are in the middle of the woods. But there couldn’t possibly be anything wrong with what I was doing. I wasn’t a little kid anymore; I could take excellent care of myself, right?

Well, I’m not exactly sure how, but the next thing I knew, we had taken a different path. Far from the mountain top I’d longed to see. I could make out an object at the trail’s end: an abandoned well, it seemed.

My friend assured me it would be okay, but I was very hesitant.

I didn’t want to say no; we had already made it this far, might as well see what the well had to offer. When we got there, a sign said “private property,” but he didn’t seem to see it and removed the piece of cloth that covered the well without second-guessing. I questioned his sudden carelessness, but he brushed it off, saying it was what any average person would do. It only got more concerning from there as he suggested running around the rim.

I wanted to help that dear friend of mine. I told him how dumb that would be, and I would rather leave, but his kind eyes filled up with pain with every word I said. So, I gave in. I compromised with walking around it while holding hands instead. It became clear he wasn’t satisfied with that, and to my dismay, it only took seconds before the one thing holding me back from falling into the pit let go and left with no warning.

The flash of air he left behind caused me to lose balance.

I was holding onto dear life at the edge of the well. Hot tears began streaming down my cheeks uncontrollably. I could not come to terms with how I was capable of putting my soul in danger at the expense of someone’s happiness, only to not be enough for him.

I wanted to soften my grip and fall, but something wouldn’t let me. At first, I thought dwelling in self-pity, shame, and disgust would be a better punishment than cheating my way out by ending it instantly.

I tried hard to figure out how I could have strayed so far from my journey? What was my first mistake? Wasn’t I supposed to be strong-willed and disciplined? How could I reject all other sour paths but not this last one?

Thoughts of self-hatred don’t take long to cripple in, so I let out a whimpered cry for help.

Then a saving hand pulled me up into the steady ground. I was grateful, but I looked him in the eye. Out of all people, how could he want to be with him? I was a mess. I couldn’t leave that side of me go; it’d held my dignity hostage. I thought there was no way out, yet the man stood by my side.

Then I got a phone call. A gentle voice said, “please come back. I don’t want to have to go in there and find you dead. I don’t know what I would do.”

Out of instinct, I grabbed onto the man’s hand, and he mysteriously got me out of there and into my family’s arms. And not a week goes by where I don’t visit him out of thanksgiving. He didn’t have to save me, but he chose to. Not until I was well, making the whole experience a million times more meaningful. He didn’t force me to safety even though it would benefit me because I wouldn’t allow myself to believe it.

And now I’m here.

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This story is a little sad, but the point was that no matter how unfixable a mistake might seem, God is always there with stretched arms, ready to save us if we allow him to. Jesus is our true friend who gave up His life for you and me!