The Red Gate

The iron of the gate was cold in my hand. I hadn't packed in gloves for the journey. I knew I wasn't fully prepared. Nor would I be. I plunged my hand back into the warmth and comfort of my coat pocket.

The forest was still and the grey clouds were banding together for another lashing of rain. My feet slurped in the muddy path and wet leaves stuck to my shoes. I peered over the gate. The path on the other side wasn't any better. There was nothing to entice me through the gate. No promise of relief from the cold, shelter from the rain or protection from the wind.

This side of the gate, the expanse of a tree with dense leaves, had offered some protection from the rain. It had kept me dry from light rains. However, the rains had become frequent and more persistent. The storms were gathering with intensity.

I peered over the gate again. There would be no shelter from rain if I passed through. That was the certainty of opening the red gate. There would be no expanse of leaves to offer even partial respite. I felt the indecision rise in me and catch in my throat. I swallowed hard.

Do I weather the storms I know this side of the gate or do I choose the path of untamed downpours?

It was a choice I alone could make.

I lifted the latch from the gate. The gate opened quietly - no unoiled hinge to announce my decision to the hush of trees. I shut the gate and replaced the latch.

Tears caught in my throat and spilled on to my cheeks. I gasped for air and tried to still my internal storm. This side of the red gate a blizzard of winter would follow the drench of autumn. I had chosen this now over eternal autumn.

When the assault of winter would happen I did not know. But come it would. I had chosen the way of the barbarian (The Barbarian Way, Erwin McManus, http://www.erwinmcmanus.com/). I would walk this path and, by the grace of God, push through when difficulty, fear, confusion, and pain would cause me to recoil and want to pull back.

After winter comes spring. After death comes life.