I cuddled up to my husband as he started on our nightly bible time. “Psalm 150:1. Praise the LORD. Praise God in his sanctuary; Praise him in his mighty heavens. Praise him for his acts of power; praise him for his surpassing greatness. Praise him with the sound of the trumpet, praise him with the harp and lyre, praise him with tambourine and dancing. Praise him with the strings and flute. Praise him with the clash of cymbals praise him with resounding cymbals.”
The whimpering and footsteps of our little one came down the stairs. Ezra stopped then and faced Emalia. “What wrong snookums?” He picked her up in his arms.
“I had a bad dream.” She said nuzzling her head to his shoulder. He kissed her head and stood taking the bible into his hand. “I’ve got this one Marie.” He said to me then turning back to Emilia. “Oh it’s okay; let’s go back up, I’ll tuck you in again.” He went up the stair then.
Not wanting to stay there on the couch while he calmed her down and tuck her back into bed, especially when there was a sink full of dishes. I began to wash the dishes.
Sadness, darkness, alone that is my life. These thoughts and feelings plague my life and threatened to take the very breath from my life.
Standing on the pier I look out at the ocean. Forget that the sun was shinning perfect in its clear blue sky, or that just the right amount of breeze was blowing today, I didn’t feel happy.
I’ve spent my life in foster care, my parents died when I was five. I don’t even remember them. And I’d lost count of how many places I’ve been in. And next year the state was going to kick me to the streets anyway. No one loves me, No one cares. I do not matter. Of this I was convinced.
With no hope and no desire to live I took the jump of the pier, falling to the water below.
And then, there came this voice.
My beloved, take my hand and I will show you more love than you have ever known.
The voice was audible, or so it seemed, loud and unexpected under the water. I struggling in the water wanting to get away from this voice.
I knew who the voice belongs to, one of the social workers was a believer and talked of him often, she was certain that he was all I needed. But I didn’t believe that this God of hers could really love me, and was I need.
How can I take your hand if I can’t see you? If you really are God?
I am here my beloved, take me hand.
Jesus, God please save me, I want to know your love.
Suddenly the struggle I was having with the crashing waves and water filling my lungs was gone and I felt myself being lifted and pulled towards the suffice. Coming up to breathe.
My long hair was clinging to my face as I took that all important first breath.
I swim my way back to shore and step onto the sand. I push the hair back from my face and take a look around, no one had seems to noticed that I jumped off the pier. Taking this moment to get by without a million questions I race up the beach heading for the bookstore.
I rush back to the religious section. I look and find it, picking up the small NIV. I searched my pockets for money. I had just enough so I towards the register.
“Hey honey, Emalia is all tucked back into bed.” I turned my head to Ezra as he pulled me from my reverie. “Huh,” I said trying to get back to the present.
“You ready to start bible time?” My Husband asked holding the bible. “Yes, just let me finish this dish.” Ezra kissed my forehead. “Okay sweetie I’ll be on the couch.”
A few minutes later the dish was clean and put back in its place. I joined my husband then on the couch. “Where was it we left off again?” I asked. “Psalm 150: 6.
Ezra found the spot. “Let everything that has breath praise the LORD. Praise the LORD.” And again I was once more reminded that everything that breathes will one day praise the Lord. And I am thankful for that day on the Pier.
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