Wednesday, July 14, 2004

The light was everywhere, dancing on the breeze through the star-like daisies of her meadow. She called it her meadow; she had found it, after all. Nestled in a clearing surrounded by the thick warmth of a hundred thousand firs, she had her own special world, far from the darkness and fear that drove the outside.

She came here when she needed to think, to be a little girl again. Something strange happened as she stepped from the cool darkness of the forest into this sunlit haven. Her cares fell away, and she was transformed from a burden-weary warrior into a child who could dream again. Sometimes, she just ran and laughed, for the sheer wonder of the freedom to be able to do so. Sometimes, she spun and spun and spun until she couldn’t stand up anymore, falling to the softness of the grass beneath her flying feet, looking up to watch the clouds spin into patterns with her dizziness.

And sometimes, He came to meet her, though He was always there. She just didn’t see Him every time. Sometimes, He just liked to watch her silently from His spot in the trees, laughing with her as she examined a funny bug or giggled over the antics of the deer that often visited the spot.

She was never afraid here. The darkness never threatened.

He came today to meet her, and she ran to Him eagerly to be scooped up into the safety of His arms, burying her face in His shoulder, smelling the sweetness of His love for her.

“I’ve something to show you, Little One.” He smiled.

Her eyes rounded with anticipation as He set her down.

Suddenly, she was surrounded with butterflies, little angels that swirled around her until she was dizzy. With a delighted gasp, she spread out her arms, and chased them across the meadow to the warmth of His smile.

“Come here!” He called, reaching His arms out to her.

She ran to Him, now and again bobbing from side to side after another butterfly. If only she could catch one!

He knelt on one knee and lifted her into His lap, gazing deep into her eyes from depths that she could not fathom. His gaze moved from her eyes to a tall blade of grass just near His hand, and He pointed.

There, on the blade, perched the most beautiful butterfly she had ever seen. Its golden wings glowed iridescent in the sunlight. It did not fly; it seemed unafraid of their movement.

She looked at Him with wonder. “Can I touch it?”

At His nod, she reached gingerly to brush her finger across its wing. It felt like velvet and satin and silk, all at once. The wing moved lightly beneath her touch. Her eyes lit.

And then it crawled onto her finger.

It was a barely contained hush that came over them both as the butterfly rested weightless on her hand. She looked at Him, and His eyes sparkled with the same excitement she felt, sharing the secret of the moment with her as only He could do.

As the butterfly took flight, she watched it go, and in a way, her heart flew with it.

“What is it?” She whispered, not wanting to break the spell of the moment.

He drew her close so that she could hear the beating of His heart. It was quiet, gentle, and it reminded her of the soft whirr of the wings of the butterfly as it had prepared to lift from her finger.

“It is hope, Little One.”

She lay back, sinking into a deep sleep, content to rest in the shelter of His arms, not needing to ask anymore questions. She knew that He would lay her down and be gone when she awoke, but He was always with her, even in the darkness of the world outside her meadow. She had glimpsed Him.

And He would be here when she came here again.


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