Tag Archives: Heaven

by | September 10, 2014 · 3:03 am

Nap of Ascension

Have you ever awakened from a dream, feeling remorse, feeling a loss for something that was so wonderful, so beautiful angelicduring the vision that you had wished it could have continued forever?

That was the case for me today.

After waking up from my nap, I had the feeling that I was visited by an angelic being and when she left me, I literally felt a loss. I say she, only because I felt comforted as if from a motherly figure; warm, compassionate, loving. Her true image I could not recall, having never caught a glimpse of the being’s true form; most of the time she was nothing more than a vapor, a whisper of a body that floated nearby.

In the course of the dream, she visited me several times, teaching me, leading me into a world that was parallel to my own, yet far beyond the reaches of normal consciousness. Each visit I learned and watched as she taught me about true love and how compassion triumphs over all darkness. We watched and observed sight unseen as people dealt with heart wrenching dilemmas, each one a lesson for our ethereal classroom. I can’t explain the feelings or scenes I witnessed, other than after each one I felt both pulled to the depths of despair for what I saw but at the same time uplifted to a higher spiritual plain from what eventually transpired, as if God had directed the people through hell and back. Each lesson built upon the former. After each visit I was returned back to my former self, back where I was still within my own body, but knowing I had returned from beyond. Each time I was brought home, I yearned more and more for the next time she would return until I was worried my anticipation was becoming real. Those around me in my dream realized there was a change taking place, but they did not know its source; they only appreciated the metamorphosis and welcomed it. The change was obviously a good thing. Their acknowledgement was nothing more than an indirect observation; something they could sense but like looking straight ahead while driving down a road, they could see if from their peripheral vision, yet its focus wasn’t clear, so it they disregarded it.

My final contact was bittersweet as emotions flowed from each of us, knowing this was the end of our journey together. I felt guilty about the time we spent together although I had not broken any vows or been unfaithful in any manner; yet, it was the knowing that my soul had been uplifted by another whose spiritual embrace had left me changed that ultimately left me with the feeling of culpability. Like dew on the leaf in the early morning light, the tender touch of the heavenly breath had remained, if only fleeting but real.

ascensionI awoke feeling as if there had been a death, as if the angelic being had died, yet I wasn’t sad. There had been something gained from the experience so rewarding that the loss was insignificant to the warmth of memory left behind. The scene of the disciples in their final hour with Jesus before he ascended into heaven for the last time came to mind. They too were saddened by his ascension, but the joy of knowing and experiencing their time with the son of God overshadowed any self-pity for his physical departure.

“And He led them out as far as Bethany, and He lifted up His hands and blessed them. Now it came to pass, while He blessed them, that He was parted from them and carried up into heaven. And they worshiped Him, and returned to Jerusalem with great joy, and were continually in the temple praising and[j] blessing God. Amen.” – Luke 24:50-53

One can only imagine the glory that flowed that day as the disciples returned to the temple praising and blessing God. If only we could reach our brethren today in the same manner such that all Christians might be so uplifted that they walk down the street praising and blessing God out loud; glory, hallelujah what a day that would be!

I may never know who or what it was that I met in my dream today but I can honestly say I won’t be upset to meet him or her once again. Grace received is grace embraced and for this we can only be uplifted to His righteousness.

Peace and Grace to all.

Leave a Comment

Filed under Inspirational, Religion, Religious Experience, Visions

Tagged as , , , , , , , , , , , ,

by | April 3, 2014 · 1:52 am

Premonition of Forelorn…

goldenshore

The beckoned flight, My soul doth seek,

Yet spirited wings, Are clipped beneath.

The journey’s path, Mere footsteps trod,

While Heaven’s gate, O’re yonder calls.

Each day we breathe, A breath once more,

And exhale our last, On God’s golden shore.

– T. Tron

Leave a Comment

Filed under Poetry

Tagged as , , , , , , , , , ,

by | March 16, 2014 · 10:34 pm

Whirlwind of Life…

ElishaLast week, two consecutive days in a row I had dreams awake me only minutes after falling asleep. Both were similar but yet different; let me explain. The first day I dreamt that I was looking out from beneath the covers of the bed. The heavy blanket I had pulled over my head made it so there was barely a crack of light shining in my eyes which revealed objects lying next to the bed. There was a great roar and suddenly, I realized the objects were brooms and mops. I watched in suspended disbelief as the brooms and mops were, so quickly, so instantaneously pulled skyward that they broke in half as they flew away. I could feel myself being pulled by the same force while lying in the bed. It was at that moment that I awoke with a start, as if the breath had been sucked out of my lungs as I gasped for air when coming too.

I looked at my watch and I had only been asleep for ten minutes.

The next day, I had just lain down to sleep when I saw myself walking down a lane toward the pastures where my grandfather kept his dairy cattle. Overhead, the sky grew darker the farther I walked until it the day was nearly night. There came another great roar, like that of a mighty steam locomotive. As I looked ahead of me, I could see all manner of debris being sucked into the clouds above. The grasses swirled frantically as branches and rocks whirled about me. I once more felt myself being pulled heavenward and again, I awoke with a start, as if the breath of life had been sucked from my chest.

I looked at the clock and again, it had only been a few minutes since falling asleep.

Needless to say, after two days of this in a row, I was hesitant to go back to sleep on the third day for fear I might not awaken and finally be pulled into the heavens by the great whirlwind that seemed to be coming for me. I recalled the scripture of when Elijah was taken to heaven by God, so favored was he. I certainly don’t claim to be any sort of stature near or even slightly favoring Elijah, yet this scripture was firmly in my head as I carried on the rest of the week. My ponderings reminded me that anyone of us could be taken home at any time; our time is not our own for when the Lord calls us home, we must follow.

As the week wore on, the daily labors of working thirds took their toll on me, so demanding was the schedule and so heavy was the workload, that I soon nearly forgot about the dreams, until I saw the episode on a sports channel later on Saturday which was retelling the story of the 2008 SEC men’s 2008SECbasketball tournament in Atlanta. It was during that championship weekend that a tornado literally hit downtown Atlanta and the Georgia Dome where the tournament was being played. Miraculously, had a Georgia player not hit a three point shot at the buzzer of the regulation play, thus tying the game, the crowds would have departed just as the tornado hit downtown Atlanta. There was no telling the loss of life or injuries that might have taken place had the guard not hit the last second shot. Rather, due to the tie created by the buzzer-beater basket, there was a subsequent overtime, which kept the near capacity crowd in place and inside the safety of the dome. Afterward, as the documentary revealed, many people came to grips with the understanding of what could have been but was not; all due to a miracle.

To many, including myself, it was an act of God.

We go through our everyday lives, often losing sight of what’s most important, too caught up in keeping the proverbial “Wheels on the Road”, to understand the brief second, that once in a lifetime shot can change who and what we are and are to become, in as little as the blink of an eye. For this, we must give thanks to God for watching over us and when we do fall victim catastrophic events, we must find the will to carry on, for if we are survivors, there was a reason why.

Not everyone was meant to be taken to heaven in a whirlwind, but sometimes, we need to be reminded that it’s possible.

Are you ready for your final ride to Glory?

“Then it happened, as they continued on and talked, that suddenly a chariot of fire appeared with horses of fire, and separated the two of them; and Elijah went up by a whirlwind into heaven.” – 2 Kings 2:11

Leave a Comment

Filed under Inspirational, Religion

Tagged as , , , , , , , , , ,

by | January 17, 2014 · 8:50 pm

Epiphany Through the Fog of Time…

rainydayThe air hung heavy overhead like a cloud enveloping my mind. As I left work, I knew that I was but a whispered breath away from passing out from exhaustion, but this was my Friday, the last night’s work for the week so I would celebrate with a hot breakfast for the ride home. I had stayed longer at work that morning than was expected due to the strange feeling I had of needing to hang around and talk. When I left the building to go to my car, rain was falling in a thick mist adding to the chill of the gray morning air; sleep would come easily, but I first had to make it home safely.

By the time I had left the drive-thru with my warm breakfast in hand, the rain had subsided, but the overcast sky was dull and foreboding. To visit my favorite drive-thru meant taking the two lane road home; a dangerous option, but one that I took with the understanding my senses had to stay alert. There on the windy two-lane highway of 751 that threaded its way from one major highway to the next past farms and Jordan Lake, the scenery itself was enough to help keep your mind awake if not provide for a reminder of the seasonal world in which we live. I had just turned onto 751 when a log truck pulled out in front of me stabbing my waning energy with the likelihood of being stuck behind a slow moving vehicle. To someone who was well into the throes of sleep deprivation, getting stuck behind a slow moving object is like putting an anchor on your back and running a marathon. However, today was my lucky day, or so I thought for the truck quickly accelerated and I soon found myself losing ground to the heavy footed driver; for that I was thankful. I regained focus on the warm meal and melded with the music that was thumping along as the fields and forests passed by.

I was suddenly and quickly awakened from my trance by the red lights of the logging truck just ahead that had slowed. Not giving it much thought, I figured he or the car just ahead of him was taking a left and we’d soon be on our way; but we didn’t.

We came to a complete stop.

The rain had picked back up, and my windows were slightly fogged as was my mind. I could see the images ahead but like something unexpected when you emerge from a deep sleep, their juxtaposition and shapes don’t make sense, so they don’t register. I sat for a moment taking in the scene before me looking at dark shapes, objects blocking the road where there should be open lanes. Pools of liquid oozed from one pile of metal as fumes escaped. Nearby, the large dark object was still not making any sense. A man walked out, snapped a picture on his phone and returned from wherever he had come. It then dawned on me, the large dark object had wheels, and I was actually looking at the underneath side of a large transfer truck. Then like the slow dawn of a morning sunrise, the gravity of the situation hit me. I felt a pit in my stomach. There before me was a horrific car wreck, and from what I could see ahead of the logging truck in front of me, there was little chance the person that had been in the heap of metal still lying in the middle of the had survived. Something was odd about it all, for I didn’t see anyone walking around other than the lone photographer. I sat unthinking, feeling as sullen as the skies above. The rain pelted my window.  I turned the wipers back on to see cars beginning to turn around; we weren’t going home this way anytime soon. I felt the tug of exhaustion mixed with another feeling I couldn’t describe. I knew I had to turn around and take another route if I were going to make it home this day.

As I drove off, the farther the distance between me and the accident grew, so did the realization of what I had just witnessed. Emergency vehicles began to pass me going the opposite direction on their way to the scene. Totally unaware at the time, I soon realized, I had been one of the first people to arrive.  There hadn’t been anyone walking around because it had just happened.  That feeling I couldn’t recall earlier returned and a sensation of crushing despair flooded my soul.

My mind flashed back to the fateful night in New Harmony when a woman drove past the DOT barricades blocking the road that was a dead end which stopped on the banks of the Wabash river overlooking a small cliff. At that time, as a kid, we looked at it like the woman was just lost and had panicked; thus, flying off the end of the road and landing in the swollen river, where she and her car load of children drowned. It wasn’t until a recent reflection upon the event that I was profoundly struck with the realization that it was more than a possibility that she meant to do what she did. This would be years before another woman in South Carolina would do the same thing and attract national attention, when she climbed to safety from the sunken car leaving her own children behind to drown.

However, like the epiphany of the past in New Harmony where the truth pierces through the fog of time, so did the conclusion I could’ve possibly helped. Yet, I was in no shape with myself being on the verge of passing out at any moment. Then another burst of realization hit me, “Had I not stayed at work as long as I did, that pile of smoldering metal could have been me.” Once again, God had placed his hand upon my life, directing me, guiding my pathway for my journey was not yet complete. I said a prayer for the person or people who might have passed, for something inside told me a soul had departed from us back there on that rainy roadway.

The grayness of the day had now become one with the emotional landscape through which I drove. My mind floated from one past event to the next knowing a moment in time can make the difference between living and dying. God gave us free will, yet when we give our lives to him, we allow his presence to define who we are and how we live. I can’t help to believe that with this faith, we also allow his heavenly hand to reach down and direct our daily paths.

That night I had a dream.

littlechurchI had found a small country church, empty and abandoned. It was nothing fancy on the inside with an interior of pine paneling for walls and the typical red carpet underneath the modest wooden pews. I sat near a window and waited. Soon, as if I had expected them, there came a crowd of people dressed in what first appeared to be robes. As they drew nearer, I could see that they all had extremely pale complexions and snow white hair. Each of them wore suits of fine white linen. All but one were young men; the other being a stunningly beautiful young woman wearing a flowing white gown.. As they filed passed, I inquired to one of them as to where they were going. They told me they were going to a funeral, but they would return for me when they were finished. Something I don’t remember happened when they returned because I tried to speak in my dream, which caused me to shout out in my sleep, waking my wife who would have thrown me out of the bed if she were physically capable.  I don’t remember any more of the dream past that point.

The next morning I was still somewhat bothered by not only the accident but the dream as well. So, I decided that maybe it would help my catharsis if I sketched down what I could recall; the scene in my mind that would not go away.

751crash_sketchAs I began to draw the accident from the day before, another accident scene from my childhood came to mind. I could see the bus over the fiery figure underneath. The high school boy, Scott Knapp was his name, had pulled out on his motorcycle and crashed into the bus, getting trapped underneath. The bus was moved away from the flames, but the boy and his bike remained in the fireball on the road. We all watched from across the road, unaware at the time, there was a kid in that blazing inferno. After what seemed like an eternity, Mr. McKinney came running out of the school with an army blanket and ran to the fire, throwing the blanket on an object and pulling it free; it was the badly burned body Scott. I recall how he survived for a few days but eventually the 3rd degree burns were too much to overcome, and he died. I often wondered after that day if I had known he was still in the fire if I could have or would have done anything different.

I finished the sketch and realized I had drawn the perspective of standing in front of the logging truck that had blocked my view. I figured it was just my imagination, and left it at that. Days later, I spoke to another coworker about that morning, and we found the crash online. Just as I had feared, there had been a fatality. Mr. Harold Sugg of Pittsboro had died at the scene. Then, along with the description of the accident was the photograph. There in the 751crashnews photo was a picture exactly the same angle and direction from my drawing, the one I had done from memory.

I don’t know what all of this means, I don’t know what God is trying to say, but all I know is that I’m thankful to have had another day to hug my children and breathe a breath of fresh glorious air on this side of the green grass.

May your journey’s be fruitful and your travels safe, God Bless.

Leave a Comment

Filed under Inspirational, Religious Experience, Uncategorized

Tagged as , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

by | December 8, 2013 · 10:44 pm

A Message from a Celebration of 125 Years…

1463136_567113273363295_1249261911_nYesterday as we stepped back in time at the Farmer’s Alliance store in Siler City to honor their 125 years of operation and the anniversary of Ms. Nancy Tysor’s 50th year as store manager, I had to realize there was a message in the stories we heard over and over at the store that meant something about that simpler time so long ago when we moved at a different pace and took time to listen to the world around us. As we shared stories of our past I realized it has almost been a full year since losing my mother to cancer and here we were once more fast approaching another Christmas where one event seemed to crash into the next. With each day that passes the intensity of the season increases until we find ourselves in a fevered pitch of headlong pursuit from one event to the next. To some it is the season of “Deja vu”; having felt we’ve been here before and already done that. Yes, once more in the season of Advent, we find ourselves hearing the familiar stories of the birth of Jesus and singing all the old familiar songs. Yet, every year there is another nuance, another twist in the story that strikes a different chord in each of us. This year for me, it has been the delivery of the message to Mary that she would become the mother of God’s only Son. In the first chapter of the gospel of Luke the scripture reads, “The angel went to her and said, “Greetings, you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you.” Mary was greatly troubled at his words and wondered what kind of greeting this might be.”

Now I don’t know about you, but having an angel appear before me and speak to me I can safely say that I don’tMaryandGabriel think the first thing I would think about is, “What kind of greeting,” he might be using to introduce himself. My thoughts would be more of the overwhelmed type, where I would be trying to cope with the magnitude of the situation and to see if I was awake or only dreaming. Yet, we are told that Mary was greatly troubled at his words and questioned the purpose of his being there. Could it have been that she didn’t realize this was an angel sent by God? How many of us would recognize an angel if one were to appear before us and begin delivering to us an important message? How many of us would be even be still long enough for an angel to even have a chance to visit with us? Our world has become so chaotic with the overload of messages, news and constant noise that there is little time to find a quiet corner and reflect on what it is we are doing here and what God has planned for us in this wonderful life we lead. It is said that we often entertain angels unaware and for most of us, this is probably truer than we would like to give credit since we undoubtedly have passed them without even taking the time to notice.

However, in the time of Mary, faith was on a different level than what most of us know today. In that time, one can only imagine there were far less distractions of the day, but beyond just the lack of noise there was the knowledge of God on a realm where visiting with an angel was not uncommon. Faith was a way of life, not an afterthought in one’s hectic schedule. Prayer and devotion were second only to survival. So when we find Mary in the presence of Gabriel, she is not overwhelmed with the event, she’s not blown away, “Oh My GOSH, there’s an ANGEL!!!” Instead, Mary takes it in as calmly and matter-of-factly as iif someone were telling her something which she really didn’t want to hear; and by the way, “Was he just greeting her with a friendly or demanding tone?” If we put ourselves in Mary’s shoes, we could quite easily see how she was troubled by what she heard. Imagine being told you were favored by God and for that, you would have a child, out of marriage, from a virgin birth and He would be the Son of God. Talk about knocking your socks off!  Yet, even though the impact of the news was definitely life changing, it was the purest of faith that could accept this message and live with it. Anyone else would have either dismissed the message or been found as a disgrace to her family.  Although troubled and curious about Gabriel’s delivery tone, Mary realizes when Gabriel says, “The Holy Spirit will come on you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you,” that she has nothing to fear, for God will bless her.

I know in my own life the past two months have been a flash, going from one event to the next until I’ve found life becoming a blur. Yesterday while attending the 125th year anniversary of the Farmer’s Alliance store I once more felt and heard the voices of lives lived in a different time all come back and share with us now; it was as if we had been visited by an angel. The celebration made me realize how much we miss those days of sitting and sharing with one another, listening to our friends and neighbors tell us about their lives and living. The music combined with the mood allowed us to step back to a simpler place and time where faith was more of our lives, where one could talk as easily about a calf down as they could about the birth of Jesus, neither would be considered out of place.

You see, yesterday made me realize, the message was as clear as it was to Mary only the tone was left up to us to interpret.

Leave a Comment

Filed under Farming, Inspirational, Religion

Tagged as , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

by | March 3, 2013 · 5:31 pm

An Insight to Inspiration

Sometimes I wonder from where or what my next source of inspiration might originate. As was the case in one scene in my recent book, “Bruecke to Heaven”, I had the image appear to me in my mind, a vision if you will. Instead of writing about what I saw, I first drew it out in my little black sketchbook journal that I carry almost everywhere I go. I have included it here along with the passage that it inspired.

They say a picture is worth a thousand words, so may you find these words be an inspiration.

Enjoy…
2012-01-06 02.32.55-1

An Excerpt from Chapter 31 of “Bruecke to Heaven”: “Last Breath”

Marik stood before an ancient tree, twisted and curved from centuries of exposure to extreme elements, fighting for every ounce of survival. Its bark was nearly gone. It was mostly gray-white flesh of wood, cracked and barren, looking more like old bones than wood. It sat atop the small group of boulders on the high pass like a sentinel, watching, waiting.

The clouds washed overhead, gray, with snow blowing lightly. He could not feel the cold; he could not feel the anguish. He stood numb, watching, looking for any sign of life. There were only a couple small branches on an outstretched limb that contained the remnants of leaves—tiny breaths of color in a stark landscape where life seemed void.

He tried to move toward it but was held captive in his place, by what he could not tell. He again forced movement but could do nothing. He could see the cold. His breath exhaled in small puff s of white that quickly flew from his face, chasing the clouds.

Suddenly trace amounts of moisture started to ooze from the tree, at first appearing as dark stains on the bleached bones. Then there were obvious signs of wetness as the cracks became rivulets of tiny streams running down the face of the tree onto the rocks below.

He watched as the tree wept.

The wind now wailed over the ridge, snow blowing sideways. The wailing became a sob as he could hear the voice of his wife screaming for the pain to stop. He was back in the room, close in the darkness, save for the lamp by the bed that shone upon the sweat-drenched body of the young woman. The birth was near, but her small frame could not handle the delivery. Each push sent her one step closer to the end until the wail became two. Then there was but one.

He felt the helplessness of the moment wash over him again.

Leave a Comment

Filed under Writing

Tagged as , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

by | February 17, 2013 · 12:03 am

A Vision, A Meteor

meteprIn the fullness of life, we all hope to know of God’s glory. When he speaks we yearn to hear. Today as I watched the silent snow falling in flakes as large as feathers, I couldn’t help to wonder of the heavenly glory that awaits us all. The quiet precipitation from the skies above, like letters from angels, put into our midst so that we may read their messages; if only we would take the time to do so. This past week, a momentary lapse in time afforded me the opportunity to do just that.

Hindsight is always twenty-twenty; once we step through those moments in time that were life-changing events, positive or negative, we can then see more clearly what led up to and were subsequent results of those moments. So it was, this past week on my way to work that I now realize there was something greater than I could know weighing on my heart. What I thought was as a sense of depression was probably more of an eminent doom, which again, I could not know at the time.

I often have time to reflect on my life’s journey on my hour long commute to and from work. I sometimes find myself driving through nightfall or the impending dusk. This seemingly eternal darkness can cause even the mildest thoughts of despair to easily become amplified beyond their true nature. Something inside me kept pushing my thoughts toward the “Why” of it all that night, until I was resolute to justify my existence purely for the sake of my children, nothing more. It was then I began to think of ways in which death might greet me.

Sitting at the stop light at the corner of Old Jenks Rd. and Highway 55, I had the sudden image flash into my mind; one of how death could be so sudden, it might seem preposterous. I was the third car in line at the red light, sitting in the left turn lane. Suddenly from above came a brilliant light, then a roaring flame followed by the sound of an explosion as what had been the first car at the light, a small SUV, immediately disappeared from sight as a cloud of smoke and flame erupted. The car directly behind it caught fire as the blast from the meteor’s impact shook all of our cars, igniting the second car. The driver, a man of Asian descent, jumped from his car running away, screaming in a mixed English-Hindi accent, “My God, my car is on fire, somebody help!” Shrapnel from the blast flew into the second car and then into mine. The mirror from the driver’s side of the second car flew into mine, glancing harmlessly off my window, leaving only a slight chip in the glass. The impact from the blast rocked all of our cars. Few pieces of the first car existed beyond the small crater that it had become from the weight of the meteor’s impact.

Stunned yet aware of the magnitude of the moment, I realized there was nothing I could do. “The people or person in the first car should have been me,” was my first thought. Whomever or whoever they were no longer mattered other than those they had left behind could take solace from the fact a death like theirs could have only been heaven sent. The odds of dying from the impact of a meteor are so small; you could certainly consider it a way for God to call you home.

I knew that the first responders would be on the scene soon. The man in the second car who had escaped with only minor injuries now stood off to the side of the road. I could see him standing there talking on his cell phone, illuminated by the glow from his burning car and the street lights that had not been blown out by the blast force of the impact. My car, although shaken, was none the worse for wear. Realizing there wasn’t much I could do at this point, knowing that this place would soon become a media spectacle and anyone remaining might be tied up for hours reliving the horrible experience, I turned my car and began to drive around the disaster scene.

The traffic on Highway 55 was stopped; some people were standing outside of their cars with their cell phones out taking video of the scene while others talked frantically into their devices, all probably sharing the event with others. I easily drove through the light, which was now green, luckily for me. I watched as I pulled away, the smoldering remains of an SUV, a life that was now gone; gone in the blink of an eye. A life that was just living another day, now gone forever; it could have been me, yet it wasn’t; “God doesn’t miss,” I told myself as I continued to drive away, watching from my rearview mirror.

Blue lights began to fill the sky over the horizon, as my car slowly made its way, putting distance between myself and the scene of the disaster that never happened. Nobody would know that I had been there, and then again, it never happened anyhow, so it didn’t matter.

Somehow, my sense of depression felt better.

Later that evening, I recalled the near-miss vision I had with a co-worker. He sat raptly listening to me tell of the scene, with all the detail of a true event. When I was done, it replied that I had quite the imagination.

We left it at that.

A few hours into Friday morning I overheard someone speaking about Russia. We were still tied up with the job we had started earlier in the night and couldn’t break away. It was a few moments later that the co-worker I had told the story to earlier in the night came up to my desk, somewhat shaken, asking me, “Did you just hear the news from Russia?”

“No, what are you talking about,” I asked, watching my computer screen from the corner of my eye; I was hesitant to take my attention away from my task at hand.

He cleared his throat, trying to capture my full attention, which he did, “There was a meteor that hit Russia just a few minutes ago. Nearly 1,000 people have been injured.” He stood there looking at me, as if he had just seen a ghost, or someone that might have known too much before its time. I sat back in my chair and took a deep breath, “my Lord,” was all I could say.

“You just told me your crazy story, and now this,” he replied, as if repeating it might somehow make it disconnect.

“What are the odds of that,” I asked, somewhat rhetorically?

We both stared in awed silence as our minds tried to grasp the reality of what was.

Even tonight as I write this story, to retell the events of Friday morning, I still cannot help to feel that when God speaks, and if we listen, there are endless possibilities. How we react to them is up to us. Sometimes, if we are fortunate enough, we listen and act.

Friday was mostly a blur of activity after that event. I was already short of sleep before Friday, but after hearing of the news from Russia, my mind was on fire. I would not sleep again until late Friday night. There was so much I had to do, to see and to discuss. It was as if a real meteor had struck in my own life and the spirit of the Lord was on fire within me.

I don’t know what will happen, what will change or what might be altered from all the wonderful things I experienced Friday but one thing I know for sure.

It all started with a vision at a stop light…and I listened.

2 Comments

Filed under Science, Visions

Tagged as , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,