Heartbeat of God

The music kicked in as I brought my head to my knees. In no time the jeans were tear-stained, as the lyrics identified with my past couple days. "I can't do it alone..."

April came to pray for me. She spoke of my percussive talents (thank you, April..though they are exaggerated) and referred to percussion as the "heartbeat of God". There is no better relief than that felt through relevant words of God...relevant to my current struggles and prayers. These windows of hope spark further prayer and the ancticipation of clarity. This was clear:

I had been dropped off, abandoned. By whom I wasn't sure. I lay in a crumpled heap at the foot of a gigantic cement staircase. Sensing that comfort rested at the peak, I summoned all remaining energy and pulled myself up stair by stair. I found an enormous throne, also cement. The man's feet were all I could see. Once again, I collapsed. Within minutes I was lifted by the hands of this man and lifted to eye level. I couldn't bring myself to make eye contact; the majesty was too great. He held me close between his hands and removed my heart. There was no pain. He proceeded to remove his own heart. It was bigger than my entire body, yet he put it where mine used to be. The effect was unimaginable. I could live again. My broken little heart beat inconsistently; it seemed bruised. With one touch, by this great man, it was restored. But I no longer needed it...I had more than I could never need. He threw it to the floor. And let me go.

The music stopped. The tears subsided. Clarity surfaced, and a mended life began to live again.

I only hope that I will remember the way to those concrete stairs, and that life's monotony will not extinguish this new faith's dwindling flame.