My path...

My path is in the mountains. I'm on a hike. It's beautiful out here. The sun is shining through Aspen and Quaking trees. The wind is whistling through the leaves. The crunch of sticks and pine needles under my bare feet resonate through my body. The aroma of dirt and pine surrounds me. I see a stunning crystal cup near a beautifully clear stream. The cup sparkles in the sun; it looks like a thousand diamonds in bedded on the paper thin chalice. The design on the cup is remarkable. Indescribable. It makes me thirsty. I dip the chalice in the stream to satisfy my thirst but before I can drink of this sweet tantalizing water a key catches my eye. A beautiful intricate key. Old fashioned. The kind that opened doors to old Victorian doors. This key is large and has an angelic design that seems to wrap all along the key. I pick up the key and cherish it. I look on the other side of the stream. There is a wall. A tall wall. An inevitable wall. Lush vines dance up and down the wall in many exquisite fashion and tease my eyes. At the base of this wall is a door. An old door. caret initio et fine; it lacks a beginning and an end. There is a bridge that crosses the stream and leads to that door. That bridge! Oh how to describe the beauty of that bridge! The bridge is hard to cross. Many complicated steps and obstacles restrict my way; instead of just swimming my way across and risk losing my key I push my way through the bridge. At last! I reach this door. This mysterious yet beautiful door. With my key; and only with my key I open the door through the wall. I walk through the threshold. I see my family. My blessed family with their love for me shining on their faces. My joy is full. Then I see a man. I lose all speech and thought. He hugs me tight and comforts me while I exclaim in earnest, "My Lord, my God! I am home."