There it is. Wider than the horizon yet still taller than it is wide. Slick. Smooth and cold to the touch. No footholds can be found anywhere. Running your hand along it's glassy surface leaves your fingers numb. It does not sway when pressed. It does not yield when pushed.
As the realization of your powerlessness washes through your consciousness, your knees buckle and you slide to the ground. Broken. Helpless. The air must be forced into your lungs and you fight to focus on the ground before you.
You cannot pray. You cannot see. You cannot breathe.
But you can cry out, "ABBA! Father! Please!"
And He cries with you. He sees your struggle for life. He sees your head pressed against this immovable wall. He moves.
The Wall comes down. Lifting your head, the vision before you is a winding path, along green meadows. Nature grazes alongside the road. There is no rubble before you. There is no evidence that the wall ever existed. Only peace. Only quiet.
Father, move for me tonight. I am tired. My child is in pain. She cannot walk without pain. I cannot watch her walk without my heart breaking. My chest hurts with her pain. My head is pressed against this wall. Written on it's glassy side are the words: Cerebral Palsy, Stroke, Seizure, Epilepsy, Hemiplegia, Fatigue, Depression, Sinemet, Anger, Wheelchair, Surgery, Valium, Codeine, PPA, Fall, Fault, Why, Tired, Hurt, Pain, Tears. This is my Jerico. I cannot go forward. I cannot go back. I am on my knees. Bent before You. Only You. Move this wall!!!