I feel a deep reluctance not knowing what is there—still surprised by what I have already found in this place. And I am so tired of stairs at the moment!
“These are not difficult to climb, “He tells me, smiling. I sense He knows that it is not disobedience in my heart and thoughts, only tiredness and a little anxiety.
“As You say, Papa.” I take hold of the banister and carefully begin to climb. He is right, these are not like the basement steps. They arc gracefully up to a landing midway up the stairs, then separate into two flights, going to the right and left. I pause here to see which way He goes. He goes to the right, I follow.
At the top of the stairs we pause, taking in the view. It is lovely. We can see into the foyer and into the dining room wing from here. The landing is sprinkled with chairs as though it is used as a quiet retreat from the noise of a gathering below.
“Come sit with Me.” He sits in a large wing chair, close to the railing, and beckons me beside Him. Although there are chairs, I prefer to sit at His feet.
“Please tell me, where are we now, Papa?”
“The upstairs is a place for family and intimates, a place where those are welcomed in to stay.” He explains.
“Do you have a room here?” I ask with some trepidation.
“Yes, I will show you if you like.”
“Please, I want to see.” I reply, although I am a bit concerned at what I may learn. He rises fro the chair and take my arm in His. We walk together down a corridor, carpeted and not quite so dusty as downstairs, perhaps because it is used more. We stop at one of the first rooms on the right, He opens the door and I peer inside. Cheerful sunlight fills the small room before me gracefully accenting the simple, plain furnishings within. . Clearly, it is a room for a child, not for a guest and especially not for Him! The room does not even have a fireplace!
I am appalled and embarrassed. “No, Papa! This is not right. Please, let me find you another, more fitting room! You have the keys now, You cannot stay here!” I feel frenzied and anxious, almost panicked. I rush down the hall, scarcely realizing that I really do not know where I am going. I see two rooms at the end of the hall and sigh with relief, sensing this is the place I am looking for. I open the left hand door, the more decorated of the two, my hands trembling with anxiety, As the door swings open, I can see clearly this is the Master Suite.
Peering in, I can see a sitting room, large and comfortably furnished with an elegant fireplace on the right hand side wall. Beyond, on the spacious balcony, another sitting area invites us. The bedchamber is through a door to the left. I recognize these neat but lived in rooms, I suddenly realize, these are my chambers.
“Please Papa, please, stay here, take these rooms-this is where you should be!” I plead, frenzied as I search for boxes to move my things out. Tears fill my eyes blinding me. In my agitation, I run into Him.
“Papa I am sorry!” I cry out, sobbing heavily now. “I’m so sorry!”
He catches me, but does not let go. “Why are you a troubled?” He asks, clearly expecting an answer.
I hate to respond, I am deeply embarrassed. “I’m ashamed Papa, ashamed that I’ve given you such rooms! I thought that I had given You more, that I’d done better. I have failed you again.” The words rush out of me in a flood.
“And…” Only He would realize that I have not told Him everything yet.
“And I’m afraid you’ll be angry.” With great heaving sobs, I begin to cry into His shoulder. For a while I am aware of nothing but the pounding of my heart and the rush of blood in my own ears. He holds me tightly until finally I calm.
“Child I have been in this guest room for a very long time. Why would have become angry now?” He voice is gentle as he draws me out of myself with His question.
I have no answer.
“ Child, you’re embarrassed now, but that was the best you could give to Me in that season. You have not displeased me. The season has changed now, though; now is the time for change. I will accept your invitation and stay in these chambers.” His strong arms around me comfort and reassure me that He means what He says.
“ Thank you Papa.” I whisper, still in his embrace. Once I settle myself a little more, He helps me box up the last few things I need to move out. Boxes in hand, I head down the corridor, for the small room where we began.
“Where you going?” He asks, stopping me mid-stride.
“To the other room,” I reply, turning toward Him, much surprised by the question. Where else is there for me to go?