In the middle of a normal night fantastic happened. In a journey by the moon’s low-light we found the day we had awaited. When all stars crossed as we were told and the finite become everlasting. In a moment of glorious appearing I remembered all the time I doubted and found those brief instants of faith assured. Into the dark wandering path I went a bit off the ground in character and truth.

Sorry for all the things I missed or messed, those things with which God trust us. The priceless and the few. Willing to mark time or waste it I squandered a rare sequence of events meant to lay the ground work of something better. Yes, it is sufficient or proper etiquette to explain human flubbery, but the alternative of never missing the train promising your prompt arrival is option much grander.

Oh Well, it must be said four times a million and exclaimed in some imaginary language to please keep me awake at least for the moments that counted. Knowing all along that they all matter for each of them I must give accounting as to what I’ve done for the Lord. Problem is I was always so busy thinking of how I could angle it to benefit me, I missed intended focus. Yes, God will make it right but I sure do wish I could stay on plan for more than a minute and half. They are all so precious and beyond my repair.

The show continues and more hearts cry out in defense of the menagerie. Dodging as if real the darts of fiery imagination knowing so well how they once troubled me to the point of not sleeping. To them this all is true. The painful disregard of their feelings and their wants. It is not enough to chastise and wound, but rather to comfort and exhibit hope that there is only one to chase away to ghosts. Carrying or assisting in the nightmare only brings on more derision and disrepair. Trying to be a healer is not the same as praying to God for their relief.

Courage now quiet one. Peace now my love strong sweet. Hearts are not built for eternity, for they want right now. Another day transposes the wishes I once hardily relied upon. In a breathless sigh of daydream, I saw the light promising a rising of the morning sun. And knew that somehow tomorrow’s coming. Though the demons promise this night beyond a filibuster, somehow God sends Angels to shine His light upon the shirts and dirty woolen prayer shawls. What peace transcend the dark things of my equipping? It is the voice of God upon the waters so deep they touch the side unseen.

What shame is found in trying so hard you were doomed to fail when it really mattered? None, says God but the pain you feel is meant that you shan’t forget them. That spike in your heart comes from forgetting you were there to serve not be relieved in the midst of battle. It matters because that is the truth of God’s Creation. All the things matter less than one heart and a set of lungs breathing the cool air God gave them. Their invitation awaits to everlasting and you are postman chosen. Deliver and never forget those painful spots upon your diminished heart were the times that you’ve forgotten.