Salvation (Believer's Inheritance)

It was one of those marvelous autumn mornings, with brisk air, blue sky and foliage at its peak. Paige donned her sweater, grabbed her phone and water bottle. This was the day to take the walk on the trail behind the old farmhouse. 

This was life, the crunch of leaves beneath her feet, the musky smell of leaves in the air. Her lungs began demanding more air, and the blood in her legs was pumping. She stopped to take a drink and adjust her scarf and then took one wrong step.

Within seconds, Paige landed upright in an abandoned well, her feet submerged in water, a small hole of light, feet above her. Cobwebs were everywhere, and taking a deep breath, she filled her lungs with pungent damp air. While everything hurt, sharp pains shot up her leg.

She screamed, but who would even know she was here? The whole idea had been to get lost in the woods for a while, away from the pressure of her job, but not like this, alone, and without hope.

Why had she not been more careful? Why didn’t she tell anyone where she was going? Why did she go alone?

She couldn’t get comfortable. She shifted to ease the pain in her leg, but it only made it worse.

What could she do? She felt the walls for anything jutting out. Finding a misplaced brick, she tried to step on it, sending it out of its place. She tried again and again.

She begged God. Was this how it would end? Would God leave her here? In time her pleading changed. "God be merciful. I need help."

That afternoon, another hiker saw a water bottle and articles of clothing, but no one was around, so he called out.

Paige roused. What was that? She heard it again and yelled into the dark cylinder.

“Help!”

The voice became louder.

“Is anybody down there?”

“Yes, oh please. I’m stuck and can’t move.”

The voice above yelled down again.

“Hold tight. I’ll get help.”

The dark silence was back, but someone had offered help, and now she had hope.

Eventually, another voice called down to her.

 “I am sending a rope. Can you grab onto it? I will pull you up.”

The thick braided rope came down, the large knot reaching her head. She reached up and grabbed it, rough and sturdy in her hands.

“I’ve got it.”

Could it hold her? Could she hold on?

“Ready?”

“Yes!”

“Hold tight.”

Debris fell into her eyes, shaken by the movement of her body as she ascended, grit she could do nothing about. Her arms stung from the strain of holding on, but she dare not let go. The tension in the rope tightened, and her weight pulled her down, and the rope burned her hands.

Paige pushed her good leg against the wall for extra leverage. When her foot slipped, the rope would tighten again, over and over.

Finally, the rim of the well opened, and the cylinder seemed to fall away. Two powerful arms surrounded her to pull her out of the mouth of the well. The relief came in sobs as she rested securely in the arms of the firefighter who carried her to the stretcher. Eventually, her tightened muscles eased as the firefighters lifted the stretcher and carried it out to the waiting ambulance.

Someone placed a blanket around her shoulders and handed her a bottle of water, a bottle of life-giving water, pure and cold. She took it slowly and savoured every draught.