Sit with Me

Fellow human traveler,

I see you. Carrying your hopes and heading up towards the warmth of the sun. You glow in its reflection. The youth and optimism in your eyes is captivating. You remind me of myself when I first set out.

Do you see me?

Look further down, into the shadows. You might have to shield your eyes a bit from that sun. See me now? I know I’m not much to look at. I’m sure this home of sharp rocks, thorns and dust looks unsightly to you. I’ve heard fellow sojourners call it the “valley of the shadow of death”.

I’m not asking for your pity. Please don’t throw your charity at me and be on your way. Even your prayers feel empty coming from your well-lit path.

But I would ask you for one thing: would you just sit with me?

I know it looks less than accommodating here. I’m not going to deceive you into thinking it’s a comfortable space. I can see you’re intimidated with the idea.

But, I ask again: would you sit with me?

You don’t have to stay here. You can be back on your way after you visit. I’m not trying to hold you back.

Would you sit with me?

You’re not the first traveler I’ve seen here. You wouldn’t be my first guest. I know you were taught well to avoid the missteps that would put you in a place like mine. Maybe you’re judging me, what brought me here, even now.

Would you sit with me?

Perhaps my corner of the world doesn’t earn those pristine praises that draw people in again and again. But, all travelers who join me down here find companionship. They tell me they see visions here that the sun was blotting out. They get up from this ash with courage and forge uncharted paths. Paths they would not have dared if they hadn’t sat with me.

Would you sit with me?

Even for a moment.

Sit with me.