It’s been a while! Since there is so much going on in my brain and I would like to connect, but not procrastinate on my mountain of assignments, I thought I would share a lil something that I wrote many months ago.
I once woke up from a dream so eerily vivid and close to my soul, that I had to write it out. This is the distress prayer that ensued from how I felt as the main character (a homeless and lonely man) in the dream:
I remember days of Your overflowing joy, when fresh snow sang out into the wind, hailing me to its wonderment and beauty, regardless of hour, company or protection. When, in the setting of the frozen landscape, hours passed in the warmth of the presence of friends, laced with love.
I remember days of Your faithfulness, when all things were possible. When fears were cast aside and mountains cast no shadow on the excitement of my daring heart. When, given the chance, I would run through the fields, pursue love, be challenged in my soul, without disheartenment.
I remember days of Your provision, when sitting on the street was an act of rebellion to the distaste of my fellow man. When the road on which I stood mattered not, for You were the guiding and ever-present force on which to find direction.
A thousand busy souls pass me by, a million footsteps whispering their distaste, their condemnation of my state and their dismissal of my humanity.
I sit on these streets and watch the first snow, yet I am ever-cold.
I sit on these streets to find rest, yet I am ever-weary.
I sit on these streets to be close to my fellow man, yet I am ever-alone.
A thousand busy souls pass me by, a million footsteps wash over me in a blur. And then for just a moment, there is stillness. I raise my eyes with the last strength of the passing day, and there before me is a child. A light in my darkness!
I see You, oh God, in the eyes of the children, unafraid to smile, fully welcoming my existence. You, provider of unfearful joy, sustainer of the resilience of my soul, are here now.
I see you, Oh God, in the glory of the Kingdom, when the wind begins to fade, and the sun shines, casting away the shadows of the towering people and cold, unfriendly buildings. You, provide of renewed zeal, are here now.
I see You, Oh God, in the stranger, when I am invited to the table, when I am championed, when I feel the most alone and a stranger tells me their name. You, provider of unashamed love, are here now.
she wanders 