Beautiful Dreamer. Come sing your song of love to me.
Numbers flash fluorescent from the night stand. 3:10. I toss and turn, look again. 3:14. My body is aching and cold. Every turn is pain. I don't feel like singing.
I form words in my head. You know I love you, Lord.
Thoughts turn to a friend who can't sleep. And another who lost everything but her family and faith in a fire. A sister coming to get me in 3 hours so she can have yet another procedure...and still no baby. Time is running out. I pray silent.
He whispers again, relentless. Beautiful Dreamer. Yes, that's you. Come sing to me.
Without words I reply. Lord, I need healing. So many need healing. What can I give You?
Come splash your love on me, and I will send it back on a moon-beam for all to see.
Beautiful words--did I say that to You, or You to me?
The clock flashes 4:10. My body hurts. I think I should be the one going for a procedure. I want to love Him, but I don't know how. I whisper words only He can hear, words I can't understand myself. They come from the deepest parts. Lord, speak. I need to hear your song of love for me. I...we...need mercy.
Believe, Daughter. I am here. Can you trust me when I don't do exactly as you think I should? Can you praise Me in your need?
I am tempted to gaze inward, to look for some reason--something that I did or didn't do--that prevents Him from answering my prayer, from sending the healing we so desperately need.
It's not about you.
I know, but...
But...I am working all things for your good. For every one of my children--because I love. I am here when you feel my presence, and when you don't. I am teaching you to trust, to love in the midst of the pain. When you can do this, you will know that there isn't anything that I haven't already done for you.
You will know you are Mine.
You will know Me.
Just believe. And sing. I want to hear your voice--sweet.
And Daughter, remember, praise brings the release.
Blessed is she who has believed that the Lord would fulfill his promises to her!
~ Luke 1:45 (NIV)
Photo Courtesy: flickr - Feliciano Guimarães