The ground outside the City of Destruction was fairly steady, but the Slough of Despond still lay ahead. At the sight of muddy water, some complained that there should be an easier road. Others grew frightened and wanted to go back to the city. Chris felt anxious as he listened, but he did not shout at them to hurry as he once might have.
Help stood on the bank, pointing out the stepping stones that now showed above the water. Watchful and several adults checked them first, then helped the older people and children across in small groups. Chris’s mother tightened his sister’s shoelaces. His father carried the waterskins and let tired walkers pause for a drink.
Halfway across, an old man suddenly could not bring himself to lift his foot. He kept saying he was holding everyone up and bent lower and lower. Chris moved close enough to tell him to look only at the next stone, rather than think about the whole marsh at once. “I fell in the first time too,” he said. “Someone held on to me.”
The old man looked at him and finally reached out. Chris took his hand and asked an adult nearby to help support him. On reaching the bank, the old man sat down and cried for a while. Nobody asked why someone his age was crying. Chris’s mother brought a dry cloth for his face.
By the time they reached the narrow gate, the group was quiet. Some worried about being too dirty. Others wanted to change their torn clothes first. Chris did not give a long list of everyone’s names for them. He only asked them to read the words on the gate: Knock, and the door will be opened for you.
His sister tugged at their mother’s hand first. “Can I knock too?”
“Yes,” Chris said. “I asked.”
She raised her little hand and knocked twice. Then their father stepped forward and knocked too. Goodwill opened the gate and saw the family together. Chris’s father said he had refused to listen. His mother said she had cared only about the excitement around her, and had not admitted needing help until their own house began to crack.
Goodwill did not make them prove they had already become good. First he brought in the most exhausted people and arranged water and rest. Then he told them how to follow the next part of the road. Only after sitting down did some discover heavy bundles on their own backs. Chris’s father felt his shoulders, and a look Chris knew very well came over his face.
“Can I take mine off too?” his father asked.
“There’s a cross ahead,” Chris said. “I’ll show you. But this time, we’ll go slowly and ask for help.”
Hopeful needed to send a letter to his uncle. Chris helped him write the address and left him a copy of the map. The boys agreed that when they met again, they would tell each other how they had gone on. Hopeful smiled, showing his slightly crooked tooth again.
Chris had not found a bottle of medicine that would make the whole city listen. He had found the Savior’s forgiveness, people willing to reach out, and a road each person had to walk for themselves, but never had to walk alone. He grieved for those still unwilling to leave. He asked others to keep sending them directions and the names of lodgings they could reach, then told Goodwill about that sadness too.
A few days later, his family prepared to set out again. His father carried food. His mother held his sister’s hand. Chris checked the map and waterskins. He still grew nervous, and a few strands of hair still refused to lie flat. But when someone asked the way, he could raise his head and clearly explain what he knew, and what they would have to ask about together.
They left the welcoming courtyard and walked toward the cross. The lamp beside the narrow gate still shone, leaving a little light for those who came after them. Chris stopped to wait for his sister, then reached out to take the small bag she could not carry.
“Do we still have a long way to go?” she asked.
“Yes,” he answered. “But we’ll walk the next part together.”
He looked back at his family and went forward. The child who had once walked bent beneath a burden, believing he could do nothing right, had become a young pilgrim willing to ask for help—and willing to offer it.