Heard

I heard a minister talking to me this morning. His voice as clear as a lake. So clear I wanted to wash my face with his voice. The water should drip over my face like truths told. Then, I came to myself. There wasn't a minister talking. It was God. Fully awake, I knew now it was time to face what I didn't know. Face what I had searched for time and time and time again in my mind. Face the fact that there was trouble somewhere close. No happy ending, no straight path, no sweet lullaby by Brahms.
I would need a hand to hold. An ear in which to whisper a word of thought. A borrowed handkerchief on which to wipe my tears. Now, I am wide awake. Something tells me I'm in a pity party. I'm looking through a glass half-empty. A sigh, whatever way my thoughts turn God is still there. Not blaming me. Not asking me hard questions. Just waiting with answers, His patience and His loving kindness.
So, I have turned to a smaller Bible. One where the prayers are as close as a priest's voice. One where Jesus is standing beside me alone and not among a crowd of hungry thousands. One where there is not one word of hate written.

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