Saturday, March 14, 2009

I had a dream of a man...

I had a dream of a man. I was living in his house and went down for a midnight drink of water. The man was not at home, or so I thought. As I gazed out the kitchen window at the night sky, I thanked the Lord for the peaceful beauty of the star filled night. Sensing that I was not alone, I turned. There he was, sitting on the couch quietly, watching me. Though I could not see his face, I knew there was something wrong. I got the impression that he felt defeated. As I drew closer to him, I could see that he had been physically beaten. He had a black eye and cuts and bruising around his jaw. He had been taunted and ridiculed and abused. Defeat was gaining ground in his heart to the point of apathy. My heart was broken. I immediately began to tend to his wounds, to his well being. "Let me help you," I said. But he refused with silence. He appeared confused before he began to weep and then into my arms he came. Weeping from deep within. I held him gently as he cried...Somehow I knew all would be made well.

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