The Dream that Gave Me Hope

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I woke this morning with a start and a giant dollop of hope.

You came to me in a dream, among other friends, and I was grieving some unknown, awful loss. You stood there, and the familiar feeling of shame settled into me.

We did not part on happy terms, you and me.

So seeing you there, in my dreams, recoiled me a bit. I stood alone in a room, the other people now faded, and all that was left was you.

I could not discern your face. Were you angry? Afraid? Scared? Resolute? Whole? Diminished?

And then you grabbed me.

I initially pulled back, but your hug kept me near. I felt the sobbing from your chest and heard the familiar sound of hiccup crying. Grasping for air.

You did not apologize for the words between us. Neither did I.

We simply embraced.

You had read Not Marked, my latest book. And you said “I’m sorry,” but the words were not about our conflict. They were about me, what I had endured so long ago. It felt like a deeper apology, then. A healing one. You stepping into my shoes and moving around in them a while. Becoming some of my pain.

I woke up from the embrace of a friend with a new sense of hope.

Jesus is in the reparation business, after all. He does amazing things between two folks in discord. His love topples the walls we build to protect ourselves. So I wait this morning for His beautiful plan.

The embrace may come in days. Or months. Or years. Or on the shores of the great hereafter. But because You adore His name and His fame, it will come.

And instead of grieving, I will put on anticipation as a garment, remembering the embrace, letting go of the words, and giving space for healing. There will be a day to air my apologies, and perhaps yours. And that day will be sweet because the One in the middle of the embrace is the One who reconciles.

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