The woman woke up in a cave.

She couldn’t remember what happened before she arrived there, as if she’d been dropped into the darkness without warning. She knew her name, her birthday, what day it was, and who the first president was. She just didn’t know where she was or how she got there.

Before her sudden relocation, she’d had something to say. Something important. Life-changing.

But now, she needed to get out.

Only two ways opened before her.

One was the edge of the cave, which ended in a cliff behind a beautiful waterfall. The water shimmered white and light blue, fading into a deep blue-violet as it poured into open air. She walked slowly toward it, careful to avoid the jagged drop.

When she peeked over the edge, her eyes widened.

It looked endless. The water fell into an inky blackness that seemed to thrum with the same deep blue-violet glow.

The woman backed away and looked the other direction.

Further into the cave, everything was lifeless and pitch black. But she knew that way.

Dark as it was, it was a darkness she understood. She knew the rocks that would cut her feet. She knew the creatures that lurked there. Creatures that hadn’t killed her, because she was still standing, but they weren’t kind either. Even now she could almost feel claws grazing her back.

She swallowed hard and turned away.

Then she ran to the walls of the cave and began pounding them, screaming as she did. She had to get out. There had to be another exit. Another option. A safer way.

“You know there isn’t.”

The woman jolted at the light voice.

She turned and saw a familiar, dirty little girl sitting with her feet dangling over the cliff’s edge.

“You shouldn’t be doing that,” the woman warned, breath catching. “It’s not safe!”

The little girl stood and dusted off her torn dress, though it only smeared the dirt further.

“And you shouldn’t be here,” the girl said with a shrug.

She dipped her hand into the waterfall. The woman watched, startled, as the girl’s skin looked clean beneath the flowing water.

“The water’s nice,” the girl added softly.

The woman shook her head, trying to clear the fog from her mind. “Can you please get away from the edge?”

The little girl frowned. “Why? We can’t go back.”

As if to prove her point, a low growl echoed from deep within the cave.

The woman glanced over her shoulder.

“The light,” she murmured.

When she turned back, the little girl was dancing along the edge.

“Please, stop!” the woman shouted.

The girl stopped, but didn’t move away from the drop. “The monsters don’t like the light from the waterfall,” she said.

The woman looked down at her hands. They were scarred… and there was blood beneath her nails.

“Not all of them are monsters,” the woman whispered, hugging herself as her throat tightened.

“I didn’t say they all were,” the little girl huffed. “I know the difference. A monster is afraid of the light. But there are… creatures that aren’t afraid.” She stared at the woman, waiting.

“Well,” the woman scoffed, “they may not be afraid of the light, but the jump is a different story.”

“What kind of story?” the girl asked, curiosity tugging at her smile.

“Survival,” the woman ground out.

The girl kept looking at her, unblinking.

The woman groaned, dragging a hand through her hair. “If I jump into the waterfall, I don’t know where I’m going. I don’t know if I’ll hit rocks… or more water. And if it’s water, will it be gentle or hard? What if I’m just going deeper into darkness?”

Silence settled between them, soft as mist.

At last, the girl sat cross-legged at the edge, staring into the shimmer. “Anything’s gotta be better than that,” she said, pointing behind her into the cave without looking. “Right?”

The woman lowered herself beside the girl. “Maybe,” she admitted. “But I survived back there. I know what it takes to survive back there.”

“Hope for the waterfall,” the little girl said, turning her gaze on the woman. Her eyes held a knowing that didn’t match her small face. “Hope for the waterfall helped you survive. And now you’re here.” She opened her arms toward the light. “What changed?”

The woman opened her mouth, searching for something she could live with.

“I grew up,” she said finally, but the words sounded hollow even to her.

The little girl’s eyes sharpened, bright with passion. She stood and planted her hands on her hips, trying to tower over the woman.

“What kind of answer is that?” the girl demanded. “You know what changed. Say it. Say what changed!”

“I did!” the woman shouted. “I let myself get distracted. I got lost, and—and—”

Anger rose like a fire she could finally feed.

She stood and faced the little girl, mirroring the stance. “I chose logic and survival instead of hope. I chose to survive.”

The girl’s shoulders sank. Sadness softened her face.

“And you’d rather survive in fear and anger,” she asked quietly, “than live in hope?”

The woman’s anger drained out of her as quickly as it came.

The girl sniffed, hugging herself. “No matter what happens, we’re gonna feel things. We’re not made of stone.”

The woman’s eyes burned. She watched the girl’s eyes fill too, and it felt like looking into a memory she’d tried to bury.

“So how would you rather get through it all?” the girl asked. “Survival…” She gestured into the cave. “Or hope.” She gestured toward the waterfall.

The woman looked back and forth, caught between what she knew and what she longed for.

“I don’t—” she began.

But when she turned fully, the little girl was gone.

It should’ve surprised her. But it didn’t. She had woken up in a cave with no explanation. She’d spoken with a familiar child. And now the child had vanished like a whisper.

Now the choice was hers alone.

The darkness behind her seemed less dark than before. Familiar. Predictable. Survivable.

She could do it again.

So what if it was cold? So what if she carried deep scars from her time in that place? She would be fine. Okay, even.

She took a step toward the cave.

“Trust Me,” a still, small voice said.

The woman stopped.

She turned toward the waterfall.

It was bright. Warm. The drop looked long enough to swallow her whole. She might hit the bottom hard—or never stop falling.

She didn’t know which one was worse.

But that voice…

It was only a whisper, but it was better than the roars, the snide comments, even the silence of the darkness she knew.

It held a promise. A promise made by sacrifice. A promise that could not be broken.

Something swelled inside her chest. A trembling bravery. A sudden yes.

She ran.

She didn’t stop. Her heart pounded as warmth wrapped around her skin like it had been waiting. She reached the edge—

and jumped.

Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.” – Proverbs 3:5–6 (KJV)

Prayer:

Father God, thank You for being the Voice that calls us out of what’s familiar and into what’s faithful. You see the places in us that have learned to survive instead of trust, and You don’t shame us for it, You invite us closer. When fear feels safer than hope, remind us that Your presence is safer still. Give us courage to let go of our own understanding and to follow You, even when we can’t see the landing. Wash us in Your light, steady our hearts, and guide our steps as we choose faith again. In Jesus’ name, amen.