The Wall by Gloria Jay Evans

I don't know when I first began to build the wall.
I suppose it was when it occurred to me that I
could keep people out if my life by building a
simple wall. The wall would be a kind of
boundary - a kind of protection.
At first the little wall was only knee high. It was
really quite attractive, made of native stone I had
found in my life. The wall was so small that some
people didn't notice it and would stumble right
over it and fall flat on their faces. Others saw it
but would step over it and come very close to me.
I found this very uncomfortable. So I built the
wall higher.
This was really much better, but I found that
some people would come and rest their arms on
the wall while they talked to me. Some stayed
too long. And some were not my kind of people.
And even when I edged the top of the wall with
sharp stones, they didn't seem to notice.
One day one of them vaulted over the wall and
stood right inside.
This made me angry. I decided to build the wall
higher. As I continued to build, I became more and more
self-sufficient... (and soon) no one could see in or
out...
But then I realized that no one had stopped by to
talk for sometime. Some walked by not seeming
to notice me or my wall. Others stood sadly by
and watched me build. I thought they were
jealous of my wall, and I resented them - all of
them...
Some of my stones were so dear to me that I
polished them carefully several times a day.
Then one day I realized the wall was so high that
I no longer saw anyone go by...or heard anyone.
"Is anyone there?" I yelled. There was no answer.
It was dark and the air was foul. I stayed there
fora long time. It was quiet and dark and lonely.
Only the whispers of my memories could be heard...
One day someone yelled from the other side,
"Your wall is ugly. It is twisted and gray and
misshapen!" Now, I did not accept this willingly.
I liked my wall. In fact, some of the stones from
which I had built it were so dear to me...
It was the day the flower fell at my feet that I
began to cry. I ran to the wall and climbed to see
who had thrown it over.
By the time I reached the top, no one was there.
I returned to the flower and sat for a long time
looking at its perfection. I began to see the folly
of my wall and its imperfection. Floods of tears
brought me to my knees. "Oh, I am so alone. My
wall is too high and too thick and ugly. ... I have
nothing left. Won't someone help me... please?
Then a strange thing happened. Something
inside me stirred like a remembrance of peaceful
times passed. And in the stillness of my broken
world I knew... God was there, a blessed
presence, that God would come to me,
that my darkness had been penetrated by this
blessed light... I stood in the joy of this presence.
I knew that God had watched me build my wall
and that God had waited patiently forme to see it
was in vain.
Finally it occurred to me that the Divine Creator
would know why my wall was so ugly. When I
asked, God began to teach me... my error. God
gave the stones names: "This stone is jealousy.
You must remove it."
Sometimes I would... protest. This was my
favorite stone. It was one I had saved and
cherished for years.
When I was finally ready, God helped me remove
the stone... (And so it went, through stones
named envy, disillusionment, resentment,
childishness, stubbornness, some with God's help,
sometimes with the help of strangers...)
As we removed more stones, the light came in.
I felt a hand reaching through a small hole one
day.
There was a stranger who walked in one day and
told me he had let God tear down his wall. I told
him how I had suffered so and that I would never
forget how forsaken and lonely I had felt inside
my wall. "Yes," he said, "self-pity is a terrible
thing." When he left, I found my stone of
self-pity in my wall. It was wet with my tears. I
dried it off and laid it with the other stones I had
taken from the wall.
Overwhelmed by all God had done for me and
all God had taught me, I stood on a large
remaining stone and began to tell anyone who
passed by what God had done for me. I was
appalled that no one seemed to hear what I was
saying... I noticed others working on walls and
ran over to plead with them to stop, but no one
would listen. In my frustration, I lay face down
on the stone I had stood upon.
It was extremely large, highly polished... It was
more than life size.
"Do you want the answer to your question?" God
asked. "Raise your head, and look at the stone
you are lying upon." I raised my head and
gasped, for I saw my own reflection in the
massive stone.
I knew the stone was pride. Quietly, we removed
it.
Then God said a strange thing. "Now you must
go. I will go with you and yet I will stay here." I
protested, "There are still other stones to remove.
I want you here."
"I said I would go with you. Do you remember
the flower that fell at your feet, the hand that you
clasped, the stranger who showed your self-pity?"
"Oh, yes", I sighed, "Oh yes." "Then you must go
and do likewise. For to whom much (grace) is
given, much (grace) is expected. Wherever you
go, I go with you. And whenever you come back
here to be tempted, or to remove more stones I
will be here for you."
And so I went out. I saw the walls of others,
and when I could, I threw a flower over, or
reached my hand through. The walls were
unbelievably ugly.
I heard great sobs behind the walls and my heart
ached. "Won't you please help this person?" I
cried out to God one day.
I returned to my wall and God the Blessed
Presence was there.
Together we removed the stones of fear, mistrust,
and indifference.
Then God said, "Now you begin to understand
love. Without love, the things I have told you
would be meaningless. You will begin to live in
peace and understanding of all those people
around you whom you thought were not your
kind'."
So it was that I went forth, reaching out -
sometimes just waiting beside a wall, sometimes
tossing a flower, sometimes grasping a hand.

 

Signing off at 5:14 PM