Through The Mists. Translated into Simplified “Modern English”. Chapter Twenty-One. Home.

Every detail of this life is a lesson. When someone has time to reflect on what they've learned, they’re often overwhelmed by how much knowledge naturally unfolds from even a single event. It’s also surprising how everything seems to support the same core law that governs this life, even when the situations involved seem completely unrelated.

I remember one of the first things that caught my attention after I arrived—a poor woman trying to reach homes she wasn’t suited for. Eusemos explained the law that kept her from fulfilling that desire. Later, Cushna showed me an example with Marie. Now, Myhanene had given me a personal, real-life example through my reaction to the breathtaking scene before me.

There wasn’t any external force stopping me from reaching those peaceful homes. The path was open, and I was certain I’d be welcomed if I could just get there. But that “if” explained everything. There was no physical barrier, just like nothing stops a person from the Arctic from visiting the tropics. The real reason was within me. My current nature wasn’t compatible with that environment, so it didn’t feel comfortable. While it felt like heaven to Myhanene and his friends, it was overwhelming for me. In fact, I felt uneasy and eager to leave.

While I stood on those heights, with my companion’s arm still around me, I learned a lesson more deeply than I ever expected—the gentle sympathy and humility with which those in higher, holier states help those who are weaker. Oh, the many ways they can offer support, the resources they have, and how willingly and humbly they use them to inspire and encourage others to grow and reach their fullest potential!

Their love grips the soul like a powerful magnet, gently pulling it upward—unless someone consciously resists that divine influence. Without even realizing it, the soul is drawn into continuous rebirths of a holier existence.

There’s no sense of superiority, no attempt to make you feel indebted for their help. Instead, they offer their assistance as if they’re the ones receiving a favour, as if the real benefit is theirs. No matter how much joy or wisdom they give you, they have an incredible ability to make you feel like they’ve gained even more happiness from the exchange.

What made Eusemos show me that breathtaking view of the land? Why did Cushna let me experience the beauty of the Chorale? Why did Siamedes take the time to explain the mysteries of the sleepers to me? Why did Myhanene carry me to see the wonders of his world? I had no claim on them, no way to repay their kindness. There was only one reason—love. That powerful force that reigns supreme throughout all of immortality. I knew it. I felt it.

The one thing driving everyone I met was to keep me from becoming too content with the conditions of my new life, whatever they might be. The soul’s natural state is to grow, to keep striving higher, with holiness as its ultimate goal. That’s why they all worked together to spark in me a deep desire to reach for ideals that always lie just ahead. They wanted me to understand that true fulfillment comes only when, like the Psalmist of old, one awakens to the realization that they have been transformed into the likeness of God.

Yes! I had learned that lesson, and as I looked out over the breathtaking vision before me, I felt sure that their efforts hadn’t been in vain—at least not with me. The desire to one day walk those radiant fields, the home of my friends but still so distant from me, had taken root in my heart. I was determined that nothing—not any obstacle, challenge, or duty lying ahead—would crush that hope. Through everything, I would push forward until my feet stood on that sacred ground, the goal of my first longing in heaven.

Myhanene had predicted that just seeing this place would ignite my ambitions if I could only reach it—and he was right. My heart was ablaze with that aspiration now. I couldn’t wait to find my current home, just to understand where I was starting from, so I could begin the incredible journey upward. I had no idea where it would be—I hadn’t given it much thought until now—but suddenly I needed to see it. Wherever it was, it would only be a temporary resting place for a traveller like me. No matter how joyful or beautiful it might be, I had glimpsed something greater, and the memory of that vision would never fade. I knew I would never be satisfied until I could call that higher beauty my own.

Then, without meaning to, a question crept into my mind: “Will I be satisfied even then?” But I knew that question would keep haunting me if I let it, so I pushed it aside and resolved to focus on this first goal. Still, as I made that decision, a shadow of doubt crossed my mind—what if the distance between me and that dream was impossibly vast?

Myhanene sensed it immediately, though he said nothing. But I felt something—a thought from him, gentle and powerful—that unfolded in my heart like a revelation. It wasn’t spoken in words, but it filled me with peace and hope, offering more comfort than any conversation ever could.

There is only one path that all people must follow on their journey to God. On Earth, this path has been altered and made difficult to recognize, but from where I now stood, it was clear and unmistakable. It’s the Straight Path, designed by God Himself, marked with His signature and seal, just as we see His mark in the natural world. At this moment, nature became my guide, helping me understand spiritual truths, and my soul drifted into a new revelation.

Think about it—who can hold a watch and say exactly, “Now the day has ended, and night has begun”? Who can pinpoint the precise moment when one season turns into the next? Who can define the exact boundary between being awake and falling asleep?

Winter’s early frosts slip into autumn’s golden days, and spring’s warmth edges its way into the lingering cold. Daylight returns gradually, sneaking in unnoticed until we suddenly realize it’s here. Leaves unfold so slowly and quietly that even if we watch carefully, we find ourselves saying, “It’s not there yet—oh, wait, yes, it is.”

In nature, there are no sudden leaps or hard stops, no dead ends or sharp dividing lines. Progress happens through gradual growth from within, fuelled by what is absorbed from the environment. This same principle applies to human life, as far as we can observe it. Who can identify the exact moment life begins, or the precise second the soul departs? Who can say when unconsciousness becomes consciousness, or when a baby’s instinct turns into understanding? When exactly does responsibility awaken, or childhood shift into adolescence? The list could go on.

But this is enough to make the point: if the same natural law governs the beginning of life and continues consistently as far as we can see, why would we assume it suddenly changes just because it goes beyond our understanding?

If God is the same Creator and Sustainer—both the Author and Finisher of all things—and He never changes, then why wouldn’t His laws remain the same, constant and unchanging?

The thought comforted me, giving me strength and peace. The distance between me and my goal was certainly vast, but I realized it could be reached through a natural process, the length of which largely depended on me. "God shows no favouritism"; there’s no special shortcut or privileged path to His throne reserved for an elite few. There’s only one way—"the way, the truth, and the life"—and anyone who tries to climb in by another route is considered a thief and a fraud.

No, the hardened criminal cannot, with a simple confession of words or a fleeting moment of repentance, leap straight from the gallows—still trembling, his lips barely free from curses—into the presence of a God "too pure to look upon evil." Salvation doesn’t mean an instant transformation from a life of indulgence to standing among the pure in white robes, from crude jokes to singing "the song of Moses and the Lamb."

It means being "accepted in the beloved" after the prodigal son has not just decided to return but has actually made the journey home—leaving the far country, walking the path back to his father.

It’s a pilgrimage that leads past the cross, where promises are received, and faith is born—a faith that is "the substance of things hoped for." Adopted into the family of saints and embraced by Christ, who will never leave or abandon him, the soul is then led from one stage of glory to the next. With each step, the soul unfolds more purity and holiness until it is finally able to:

Dwell in eternal Light

Through eternal Love.

My companion wasn’t eager to end my visit, even though I had hinted at it. He was happy—so incredibly happy—there in his home. And whenever I had a break from my reflections or awe, I could sense his deep desire that this place would become my home too. But it couldn’t be, not yet.

So instead, he patiently gave me time to absorb it all until a strong determination grew within me—a promise to myself that it would be my home as soon as I could rise to meet its demands. Then, with a gentle squeeze of his arm, he signalled it was time to go, and I turned away.

"How long have I been here—in this life?" I asked once I found my voice again.

"Only a few weeks by earth's measure," he replied. "Why? Are you tired?"

"No! I know I’ll never feel tired again—I can sense that. But I’ve been so absorbed in learning and experiencing new things that I hadn’t even thought about time until now."

"Why do you think you've learned so much?" he asked.

"That’s a question you could answer better than me," I replied.

"It’s simply because you’ve asked so many questions.

Your life on earth was like one long, constant question—not always to the people around you, since they couldn’t understand or answer you, but to yourself, and to us. Now you’ve started finding some of those answers in the little we’ve been able to show you so far. But remember, this is only the beginning. We’ll be glad to continue soon. For now, I’ll take you to your home, where you can reflect on your experiences and rest for a while. That rest will help you shed the lingering influences of the body, which still cling to you and could hold you back from fully enjoying the revelations yet to come."

"Home," I repeated thoughtfully. "Did you hear my wish when I was standing on the hill? I’ve been so engrossed here that I hadn’t thought about it until I saw your home, which made me wonder how far mine might be. Was that thought a sign of what was coming next?"

"Perhaps it was," he said with a smile. "Come and see."

Our path took us through beautiful groves, broken up by peaceful dells and meadows.

We passed only a few people along the way, which allowed us to talk freely without interruptions. I won’t go into detail about all of our conversations here—I have volumes of greater experiences yet to share. If this account achieves its purpose, as I hope it will, I’ll return to continue my story.

As we walked, I noticed bright flashes of thought occasionally shooting ahead of us from my companion, followed by responses that seemed to come back just as quickly. I realized he was silently communicating with someone far away, even while he was talking with me. At the time, I wasn’t skilled enough to understand this kind of exchange, so I had no idea what it was about. Still, it only sparked a fleeting curiosity in me—I was far more interested in the discussions we were having.

As we walked through a particularly beautiful glen that captured my admiration and temporarily ended our conversation, we suddenly came across Cushna, Arvez, and several other friends I hadn’t met before. At Myhanene’s suggestion, they joined us, as he clearly didn’t want to linger.

Not long after, we encountered Eusemos with a group of choristers who greeted us with a song of welcome. They too joined us, and we continued on, listening to their music.

Soon, we met Azena, accompanied by a large group of women who had come to meet Myhanene when they heard he was passing through. More people kept joining us, some carrying instruments, others adorned with flowers like those I’d seen at the festival. Eventually, we became the center of a long, joyful procession, filled with songs celebrating Myhanene—whose warmth and kindness made it easy to understand why everyone loved him so deeply.

Eventually, we entered a narrow valley nestled between two hills. At the valley’s end, we ascended a gentle slope, and from its summit, I saw a city more magnificent than anything I could ever compare to on Earth. It looked as if it were built from pinkish alabaster, laid out in a perfect square with wide avenues running east to west and north to south, dividing the city into distinct sections. From where we stood, I could clearly see the lush trees that lined these divisions, their foliage rich and vibrant.

The buildings were beautifully ornate, and though many were quite tall, most appeared to be only one story, with flat rooftops that served as both gardens and promenades. Each palace—because no other word could truly describe their grandeur—was surrounded by expansive grounds, each uniquely designed to reflect the tastes and preferences of its residents. Despite these differences, the entire city formed a breathtakingly harmonious picture, bringing to mind Myhanene’s earlier words about the beauty of diverse elements coming together in perfect unity.

Everywhere I looked, the scene radiated wealth, beauty, and peace. As I took in the vast splendour of the city, I couldn’t help but wonder—could it really be possible that I would find my home in such a blissful place?

As we paused to take in the breathtaking view, a chorus of bells rang out, adding their melody to the music already surrounding us. This seemed to be a signal for the entire city to come outside, and soon a large crowd moved toward us.

One of the first people I recognized was Helen, followed closely by others I had known in the dark, neglected corners of London.

Some were people I’d been mysteriously guided to help, though I’d never understood how or why. Some I’d supported by reading to them, others I had comforted with conversations, trying to ease their doubts and reconcile their harsh realities with the idea of a loving God. I’d shared my vague ideas of heaven with some, offered bits of comfort through my scattered theology with others, and now, seeing their faces, I remembered promises we’d made to meet again “beyond the river.” They had kept those promises with purpose and clarity, while I had somehow arrived here more by chance than design.

As I looked around at these familiar faces—transformed though they were—I was struck by how many there seemed to be. I knew each one personally, yet the crowd felt far larger than I had ever imagined. These were no longer the impoverished souls I had known; in the time since we’d parted, they had been elevated beyond recognition.

Now, they were radiant, as if crowned kings and queens, priests and priestesses of God the Father. I felt deeply honoured to renew my connection with them, far more than I ever had before.

When the heartfelt greetings quieted, the music swelled into a powerful chorus, with everyone joining in to sing a warm “welcome home.” It was at that moment I realized that this entire celebration was for me. Even then, it was hard to believe until I turned to Myhanene and asked, “Is this really for me?”

“Yes, my brother!” he replied with a smile. “This city will be your home for now, and all these friends have come to welcome you.”

Only then did I understand that the bursts of thought I’d noticed along the way were signals, and the encounters with Cushna, Eusemos, and the others had been carefully arranged as part of a plan—a plan in which I, without realizing it, was the central figure.

The procession re-formed, now even more impressive and grand.

I was led forward as the honoured guest among such distinguished company, with Myhanene still by my side and my closest friends gathered around me. Overwhelmed by the heartfelt welcome and the outpouring of affection from every direction, I could only respond with tears of joy and gratitude. Even the bells seemed to come alive, ringing out in harmony with the warmth and celebration in the air.

As we turned down one of the nearby avenues, I saw our leaders heading into the grounds of a palace so breathtakingly beautiful that it immediately captured my attention, even from afar. But when we reached its entrance, and its full splendour unfolded before me, I stopped in awe, unable to process its magnificence. I turned to Myhanene and asked, “What is this place?”

“Home,” was all he said, gently leading me forward, as I was swept up in a feeling so profound it felt like something out of a dream.

As we approached the house, I noticed that the delicate draperies, which here served as doors, had been drawn aside—a sign that all were welcome to enter. Yet, the crowd respectfully parted to either side, their singing quieting into reverent silence. Myhanene held my hand and guided me on.

Reaching the entrance, I saw the wide porch filled with a radiant gathering, their brilliance reminding me of the angelic host I had seen at the recent festival. At the center stood a figure cloaked in robes of light so dazzling I couldn’t immediately recognize him. My eyes were still unaccustomed to such radiant splendour. I paused, unsure, but Myhanene, sensing my hesitation, whispered softly, “It is Omra.”

Before I could react, we had reached the top of the steps. In the next moment, I felt an indescribable surge of joy as Omra wrapped his arms around me, his presence like a wave of warmth and light. “Welcome, our beloved one, in the name of our Father; enjoy your rest,” he said gently, lifting my head and placing a kiss upon my forehead. The entire assembly responded softly in unison, “Amen.”

I didn’t speak. What words could possibly express what I was feeling? How could I find language worthy of such a moment? But there was no awkward silence, no expectation for me to respond. Omra’s embrace had said everything that needed to be said, and in his presence, words were simply unnecessary.

“What a large group of friends you have with you,” he said warmly, inviting me to take in the scene.

At the foot of the steps stood all those friends from London I had mentioned before, gathered together in a distinct group. Omra directed my attention to them specifically, saying:

“My brother, the Lord has promised that ‘those who sow in tears will reap in joy.’ In these dear friends, I want you to see that promise fulfilled. Here, as far as it has been gathered, is the harvest of your life’s work. You went to them, carrying seeds more precious than you realized.

Even though your hand trembled and your understanding was uncertain, you scattered those seeds, and because they were the Word of God, they accomplished the purpose He intended. Now your day in the field is over, your work is done. You return to the God who sent you, bringing your sheaves with you. In the name of Christ, who redeemed us, I thank you for your ministry of love, for whatever you did for these, you did also for Him.”

I tried to tell him that in the little I had managed to do; I had been the one most blessed. That the ministry he referred to had been the bright spots in an otherwise difficult life. That the joy and fulfillment I gained from it far outweighed any sacrifice it required. I was also painfully aware of how much more I could have done compared to the small amount I actually accomplished.

But he already knew all of that. He assured me I would understand more fully when I had time to review the record of my work, which had been carefully kept and was available for me to see. There, I would find the true results, compiled by one far wiser than me, incapable of making an error in judgment or estimation.

Then he blessed me and departed, leaving Myhanene to continue introducing me to my new home.

I wish I could find the right words to give even the faintest idea of the beauty and perfection of that house, but if I tried, I’d fail before I even began. So, I’ll leave that part out. However, there’s one thing I must mention because it’s important for those still living on Earth. When Jesus Christ spoke to His disciples about the many mansions in His Father’s house, He said, “I go to prepare a place for you.” But what about the furnishing of that place? That’s a thought that had never crossed my mind until I entered my new home—and then I had another major revelation.

Every piece of furniture, every ornament, every decoration in my new home was directly tied to, almost as if it had been created from, some act, word, or aspect of my life on Earth. It was a startling truth to realize, and how I wished I had known it sooner!

One room contained a series of pictures that depicted the record Omra had mentioned.

At a glance, I could see the results were far from perfect. The original design was clear in each one, but the mistakes and flaws I had made were just as visible. In those images, I could easily identify the weaknesses I still carried and the many imperfections I’d need to correct before I could reach that higher level of life I’d just glimpsed. Studying this record helped me understand the work I had ahead of me. Yet, I was also aware that such a beautiful home, with its peaceful surroundings, would make that work feel easier—almost like it would naturally support my growth.

Then there were the new and expanded abilities I had gained, the extraordinary companions I could now learn from, and the vast wealth of experience available to guide me. All of this filled me with hope and determination.

At one point, Myhanene led me past a doorway with its curtains tightly drawn. I felt an intense urge to enter, as if some invisible force was pulling me toward it. It was like a silent voice calling me from within, and I paused, drawn to it.

But Myhanene gently redirected my attention to other things, acting as if he didn’t notice my hesitation. He led me up to the rooftop, where I could take in another breathtaking view of the city—one that, in time, would become deeply meaningful to me because of the memories I would make there.

The fresh air and the captivating view helped calm the restlessness I’d felt when passing that closed door. Once I was fully at ease, Myhanene turned to me and said softly, “Now, my pleasant duty is complete for the time being. Come with me for just one more moment, and then I will say goodbye.”

When we reached that door again, Myhanene motioned for me to go in alone. Then he turned and left.

I knew exactly what he meant. Inside that room, someone was waiting to welcome me home—someone whose absent touch and silent voice had left an ache in my heart for as long as I could remember. It was the person who had given her life to bring me into this world.

The one whose absence had left me unprepared for the battles I had been forced to fight. The one whose name I had cried out in the darkest moments of my loneliness but never heard an answer.

If only she had lived, even for just a few more years—long enough for her memory to remain vivid in my heart—how different my life might have been. Perhaps then, instead of becoming a misanthrope, I could’ve grown into a man who contributed something meaningful to the world, leaving behind a legacy worth remembering. But that shadow—born with me—was never lifted, and its weight was the cross I carried. Now, finally, that burden was about to be lifted for good.

Dear reader, when I visited the home of the Assyrian, I stood on the threshold of a similar meeting. But as I told you then, when that sacred moment arrived—too personal, too holy—I turned away, unwilling to intrude on something so profound. Now, I must ask you to grant me the same courtesy. Please allow me to step through these curtains alone, to finally gaze upon the face I’ve longed for all my life.

The space beyond this delicate veil is far too sacred for any stranger to witness. The reunion that awaits me is too holy to share. For me, the struggles of my earthly life are over. By the grace of our Father, I’ve found my way—through the mists—and now, with heartfelt affection, I bid you farewell.

I draw back the silken curtain to find myself, at last, in the loving arms of—MY MOTHER.

THE END.