The road up North

[Mike Wright]

The road up north

There is a road just up North that is a little less traveled. Not many know of it, fewer have tried to reach it. It’s not the kind of road you can live off of, or take a Sunday drive down… This road is largely covered in weeds and ruts, even an ATV would find difficulty accessing it. No, this is a road that must be traveled by foot.
The road goes on for miles, twisting and turning. The road rises in elevation approximately two thousand feet to its end, and is covered in a canopy of forboding pine and birch trees, which threaten travelers with easier paths to distract them from their journey.
At the end of this road is the beginning of a mountain. It rises sharply, and at its base one might turn back as the end cannot be seen from this vantage point. Still, if one is determined to press on, one would find the climb difficult, as loose rock and shale cover its base, making the footing treacherous.
After a few thousand foots ascent, one might encounter an outcropping of rocks, ancient, covered in moss. Nearby is a waterfall, and the mists fill the area with an enigmatic fog that makes it difficult to get your bearings.
As you climb the outcropping, through the fog you might catch glimpses of moving shadows, the telltale sign of fellow climbers sharing in your ascent. They do not know you are there, and you aren’t entirely sure they are there, and yet you can hear a voice say “Climb. I am with you. I will be there if you fall.” You don’t know who the voice is, but you trust it, and you press on. The rocks are sharp and the climb is treacherous, and sometimes you slip. But just as you think you might tumble towards death, you feel something grab hold of you, lift you up. You trust it and grab hold, and continue your ascent.
Eventually you reach the top of the outcropping. You don’t dare look back at this point, as the wind has picked up and threatens to toss you back down the mountain. As you press forward, you find that the rock leads to a flat plain, flooded several inches deep in water. The fog still obfuscates the world around you, but you can hear the multitude of splashing, of people running in every which direction. You still see there shadows moving through the mist, but no one there tells you the way. There is a voice, very faint if you listen, that says “Follow me. I will show you the way.” At first you think it’s the shadows, but their movements are so erratic you cannot possible hope that one of these will lead you anywhere. So you trust to a feeling, and you simple begin to walk. Straight forward is the only way you can think, so you simple walk. You walk for hours, for days… Miles upon miles it seems, and sometimes you think you’ve gone the wrong way, or that there simple isn’t an end to this journey… But you hear the voice say softly “Follow me.” And so you continue.
Eventually, you see the forest again, and the fog starts to lift a little. You see a small path barely tread, and can now hear and see wildlife moving through the forest. They are all walking with you as you hop over fallen logs and boulders, till eventually you see up ahead a light. The light grows brighter as you approach, and eventually the forest breaks, and you see you are standing on a ridge, viewing the most beautiful valley in all of God’s creation. Down below the forest is broken by a large river separating the valley, and on the other side are green pastures, and cultivated grounds.
As you climb down the ridge and travel through the last bit of forest, you are greeted by a man. He’s a modest looking fellow, with trusting eyes, and asks you how you got here. If you tell him you heard a voice guide you here, he will know it and he will show you a raft and let you cross the river.
As you cross, you notice others on the river, in kayaks, boats, inner tubes, all enjoying the river. On the other side are fisherman, engaged simply in the pleasure of fishing. You might recognize one or two of these people if you pay attention… Likely they saved someone’s life. Likely they saved yours.
As you pull your boat up on shore, you’re greeted with a multitude of paths, each with a sign indicating where they lead. There are so many, I can’t recall all of them. I do recall one leading to an air terminal, with no departures, only arrivals. Filled with friends and family welcoming home their loved ones, who’d they’d not seen in years, who’d they’d been separated from by war, and a welcome home party for those who’d served and died for their country.
I followed the path to the course, which a friend had told me about. There was the most amazing 18 hole course ever created. It isn’t an easy course, but it fully satisfies. As I grabbed my clubs I met up with my family, who all wished me well. I visited with my grandfather, who was in the clubhouse telling stories to the children that had gathered. I kissed him and promised I’d meet him on the back nine. I kissed my wife and my family, who were all enjoying the view and the company, and I set out with a friend to take on the course.
Each hole is a challenge unlike any you can imagine, but an amazing adventure. It’s calming, laid back… There is competition, but its all friendly. There is great conversation, people on carts bringing you good food and drink along the way. I laughed when I saw Molly the squirrel on the course. She would take our balls as they landed and bury them, as a joke. There was also Lightning the squirrel, who had his own patch of roadway on the course that he could guard for himself. He would let you feed him, but he was rather discontent with anyone walking on his pathway.
If you reach hole 8, you’ll find something amazing. The fairway lies on a bluff, on the other side of which is an endless ocean. It’s calm waters will fill your spirit, and the sun peeks through the clouds in rays of golden hope. It was here that I looked at my friend and thanked him for believing in me. We had made a promise that no matter how hard the climb, we’d meet each other here eventually.
The back nine I played with my grandfather. At the end, we shook each others hand, and he went back to the clubhouse. And I stood there, looking over that amazing day… And I wondered. Is this it? Is this perfection? Or is there anything more, anything greater than this?”
And the voice said “Life is what you make of it. Just know that I am here when you need me.”
The road up north is certainly a treacherous one. A lot of people don’t even believe that it exists. But I know its there. Hope deferred makes the heart sick. At the end of that road is more than hope, more than purpose, more than fulfillment, more than meaning, more than the end. At the end of that road is yourself. The journey you take on that road is who you are. And never forget, there is always someone there to help you along the way. Don’t be afraid to talk to Him.