A Divine Encounter
“Why do you think people give up?” He asks me.
I don’t want to have this conversation. I want to shut down. Just listen to music and read my book and put this whole journey out of my mind.
I can feel his smile more than I can see it in my mind. It’s gentle. Kind. Patient.
“You know that’s not possible, dear one.”
“It’s because they’re tired,” I answer, a little bitterly. “It’s because they don’t want to be in pain anymore.” I don’t say what I really want to say: it’s because they’ve been tested and tested as they’ve broken down again and again. And how many times are we meant to rise? How many times are we meant to build ourselves back up? How many times are we meant to hear about the blessings when the heart is hurting in this moment now?
I don’t say this. But he knows. Of course he does.
He waits for my surrender. I lean back against the couch cushions and sigh. I feel defeated today but I know what he’s going to say. That it’s just a moment. That I’m transforming, healing, ascending. That he’s so proud of me. That tomorrow will be better. But I don’t need tomorrow. I need now.
“It’s because they don’t turn to me,” he says finally. And his words surprise me. They shouldn’t, but they do. “You think you have to carry the cross all on your own. But that’s not why you were created. That’s not what you’re here to experience. That was my job. Put down the weight of all you’ve been carrying. The time of self-punishment is over. I am here as I have always been to lift you from your burdens.
“People give up,” he continues, “because they think they’re alone. They forget to reach out—to others, to me. And in their solitude they forget the strength of their own heart, the power of spirit that they themselves wield. They forget, so lost in their humanness, how connected they are to everything around them. Most of all to each other. Most of all to me.”
I don’t know what to say. But I don’t have to say anything. He smiles gently, brushes my hair from my forehead and places a kiss there.
“Tomorrow will be better, dear one,” he promises. “But don’t give up on this moment now. This is where you are. This is where I am. This is where you’ll begin to rise again.”
- Susan Dawn