In God’s vision
It’s wonderful being young. I’m cushioned cozily in this soft little water bed, just the right temperature and size. I kick out my little feet and hit the walls of my room. I use my miniature fists to punch mommy. It’s wonderful. There is this other Being here with me. He keeps me in his vision. He has this book he records things in about me. Eighteen days old and he writes, heart beating on time.
By twenty eight days I can hear mom and dad fighting,but only barely, my ears and eyes are just forming. I see the Being record the presense of these organs in his book. Mostly they fight about me. Dad isn’t ready for something called a ball and chain. I don’t care. This Being infuses me with solace. I just float and dream. Occasionally I feel mom carassing me through layers of barriers.
The Being writes: 42 days brain fuctioning. I start to wonder how did I get in here? The only possible opening is real small at the bottom of my room. No way anything can fit through there! This is a nice soft warm place. However I got here, I really like it. I feel safe and protected. The Being keeps me in his line of vision.
One day I was awakened by a slamming door. I was being tossed about in waves of water. This felt fun. I looked up and Being was there watching me as always, writing in his book, eight weeks and all body systems present. The Being smiled at me. He sure makes me feel important. Mom’s body was shaking, I heard wierd sobbing like sounds. She was rubbing me through that barrier that separates us. I couldn’t understand the words she spoke to me but the meanings were universal. I didn’t feel welcomed. I felt endangered. I felt the presense of Being, I looked up at him. A frown was forming on his contenance.
I hear noise outside. Lot’s of talking. Dad telling mom to be quiet, it’s for the best. I’m sucking my thumb anxiously, feeling really threatened. My heart beats faster. Being is still here with me. I feel mom lying down. I hear her crying.
I see something coming up at me through the small opening in the bottom of my room. It is like a huge wand. I reach out to investigate it. Oh my gosh, it won’t let go of my hand, it has a powerful suction. It just ripped my arm off. Owwwww! I kick at it with my feet, trying to put distance between us. Ahhhhhh! It is swishing around, searching all over. It grabbed my feet, legs and torso. There is nothing to hold on to with my last hand! Ahhhh, I’m going, going, gone! I found myself in a huge bottle, all my parts are here, heart, brain , extremities, but they are unreparable.
Now,I’m above it all looking down. Circling the room. That must be mom. Her legs are up in some weird contraptions. She is crying hysterically. “I changed my mind! Stop!” Her make up smeared down her cheeks. She didn’t look much older than me! Something tells me whatever she wants stopped, it’s too late. I feel it might have been nice to grow up with her. I didn’t see dad, I’m not sure I want to see him. He made mom cry.
People around her just shake their heads unsympathetically, help her off the table and tell her to go home with her private grief. They don’t have time to console her. I look up. There are tears rolling down Being’s cheek as he embraces mom with his eyes. It’s like he and I are one, I feel his heart hurting. He catches my eyes and holds out his arms. His vision for my life has ended. He’s pulling me. Up, up, up I go.
I wonder what I could have accomplished some day. At least I by-passed prolonged exposure to earthly suffering and went straight home. I’m not alone up here. I can’t count how many of my kind are surrounding the huge gold chair Being sits on, all body parts present and accounted for once again. Occasionaly some of us leaves with a woman that just arrives, searching for one or two (or, gasp, three) of us. The Being, himself, places us in their arms. There is much kissing and apologizing. Lots of rejoicing and no recriminations, all errors are left at something called “The Cross”. In the future, if my mom falls at the base of “The Cross” she’ll get to be reunited with me also, but no matter, I feel unending security and contentment.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
The opinions expressed by authors may not necessarily reflect the opinion of FaithWriters.com.
This article has been read 14 times < Previous | Next >
Home | My Account | What’s New | Site Map | Contact Us | Help | Feedback
Link To Us | Become A Member | Buy Articles | ADVERTISING
Ã?Â© FaithWriters.com. All rights reserved.