The Ascent-A Journey to Easter through Purgatorio
Written by Jamie Cailteux
Jesus and I are preparing for a hike together, just Him and me. He’s the experienced hiker so he’s checking my backpack. It’s so heavy. He looks up at me and says, “You don’t have to carry all this.” He invites me to just give some things up, to lay them at His feet. In fear, I clutch all my things and explain why I need them. We might run out of food or water. We might need extra lighter fluid. I’ll want this extra blanket and socks if it’s cold. Etc, etc, etc, scarcity mindset, desire for control, excuses. He patiently listens but continues to ask me to set things aside. So together we take some items out to lighten my pack. He can’t take it all, though. Some things I’m holding close to my chest—literally. I’m wearing a weighted vest and being the gentleman He is, He won’t take this without my assent. But for the things that remain, He equips me to carry them as best I can. He ties my boots, tightens my pack, makes sure it’s centered on my shoulders and secure.
We set off. It’s straight uphill, and the scenery immediately around us is ugly. Dead stuff. Rocky ground and gray skies. But the company is good and I’m enjoying the hike, even though it’s intense. I start to relish the clean, cold air. I feel more free than I did at the base of this mountain when my pack was so much heavier and all I could see was the uphill climb.
Finally, the summit is in reach. I have worked hard, but I’m feeling the joyful rush of good exercise. Jesus must be more tired than I am because He has all the stuff I let go of. I look over at Him and see He doesn’t have a backpack like mine.
He has a cross.
It looks like it could crush Him. My heart squeezes with shame and guilt. He has that because of me. I reach out to Him. I want to help Him somehow. But He smiles at me and says, “You are consoling Me by making this journey with Me. Stay with Me.”
We talk about the weighted vest. I am feeling how much harder this journey is when I am so burdened, but I truly don’t know how to get the weights off. Jesus points to each one and names it. He also knows how long I’ve been carrying it. Some of them, since I was a little girl. I start to tell Jesus, these things are just part of me, but He shakes His head sadly and says, “I didn’t make you this way.”
We get to the top and I realize two things. One—I can see everything now. The sun has risen and lit up the valley we came from. From here, it is actually so beautiful. The light touches all of what I thought was ugly on the way up. It’s the same but transformed, somehow. Two—the weights in my vest are gone. I can see them strewn about our path leading here. I wasn’t ready to part with them at the beginning but on the way, one by one, I let them go. And the places on me that were aching and rubbed raw from the carrying—they no longer hurt.
Jesus, I trust in You.
About Jamie Cailteux
Jamie Cailteux is a bride and homeschooling mother of five living in Kansas City. Besides literature and writing, she is passionate about her Catholic faith, music, and women’s health. She and her phlegmatic melancholic husband love to discuss the four temperaments.
About Well-Read Mom
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