Sometimes I wake in the night, remembering. I remember the smell of the place, the chill air and woodsmoke and wild sage. I remember the moon in the trees casting its tangled light over our bed. I remember.
I wonder if you have ever had friends who kept the fire burning for you all day and night for months, waiting and watching for your approach, hoping and praying? I have had such friends. For six months I have been a wanderer while faithful friends kept watch over my fire in turns, waiting.
Years ago my husband built a house for me in the woods. I called it Innermost House. There at last, after many moves and incarnations, the Conversation that is the fire at the heart of my life took a body for its soul. There we lived for seven years, just we three alone, my husband, that fire, and I.
But the Conversation is a sojourner. It is a searcher, a fire forever seeking out the inmost places. It has moved us many times with its needs. The Conversation has its own moving destiny.
When I open my eyes to find so many new friends gathered around me, I know all shall be well. I would take you each by the hand. I would greet you each by name. I would look into your eyes and know that you share my love of the Innermost Life. I am so grateful you are here.
How can I ever thank the dear friends who kept the Conversation alive while I dreamed a dream of remembering? I wake to a vision, still distant in prospect, of a new life in a new house where I may receive all my friends one by one in Conversation.
Thank you all for giving me this shelter by the wayside. We shall make this journey home together, sojourners all!