I just have to tell you about the dream the Lord gave me last night. I saw a key on a table and next to the key a picture of a goldfish and a rainbow over the table. I woke up in tears and wondered what does the dream mean? And then it all became clear. The Lord was showing me the key to church growth. We must make a pond in the car park and fill it with goldfish and the rainbow will touch the pond and the fish will turn to gold. Thousands will flock to see the mighty miracle of the angels sliding down the rainbow and the fish flying out of the pond and writing, 'Beware the cats' on the church walls. And Jericho's walls will fall when the rains come down and the floods come up and great will be the crash of the stock market on that day. But the people of God will be kept safe because their market share is in the city of gold as Dick Whittington heard and so he walked the streets of London.
Dennis sighed and put his head in his hands, his elbow pinning the letter to the study table. Monica came up behind him and rubbed her fingers through her husband's hair. "Is everything all right, love?"
"Have a look at this. What are we going to do?" Dennis took a long draught from his glass of iced tea while Monica scanned the letter.
"Well, what are you waiting for? Get digging! You should just about have time to make a fish pond between laying out the china on the church lawn to bring in the orientals and erecting the stables for the horses of the Lord's cavalry. When did she say they would arrive? It can't – ooff!" Monica ducked as Dennis lobbed a cushion in her direction.
"I know, honey. It would be hilarious if it weren't so sad. One day it'll make for a colourful chapter in my memoirs, but right now – "
"She's one of us and we need to find a way to help her. My love, if I had half an inkling I'd tell you, but I'm as clueless as you are. We've held round-the-clock prayer vigils at her house. We've sprinkled holy water. We've had faith healers lay on hands. I just wish the Lord would speak! What I wouldn't give to have a dream that showed us the way forward. Meantime let's at least not go mad ourselves." She nodded towards the limerick their eight-year-old son had stuck above the desk, and began: "The Lord said to a lady called Shelly..."
Dennis joined her:
...'Put the turkeys on top of the telly.'
So she got them together
And plucked off their feathers
And left them there till they got smelly."
He hugged his wife. "I'm so glad to have you, honey"
Brinnnggg, Brinnnggg. Brinnnggg, Brinnnggg.
"St. Cuthbert's Rectory. Dennis speaking... You're with Shelly? Yes go on... She's at the train station? Headed for where?... London! What's she doing catching a train to London?... Yes, I understand. I'll be right there."
"She's going to Lambeth Palace with a letter for the Archbishop of Canterbury. Apparently an angel commanded her to tell him that if he wants the Church of England restored to its former glory he must invite the bishops and the House of Lords to a masked ball. They must come dressed as saints, and march through London with trumpets made of rams' horns. The sound of the rams' horns and the car horns will ascend to the throne of God and he will rain down manna and quail and the tourists on the open-top buses will catch the quail and – well that was the gist of it. Where're the car keys?"
"On the peg. Where's your wallet?"
"In my briefcase, why?"
"To pay her fare."
"Monica you can't be – "
"Serious? Yessir! You prayed for an answer, a way to help her. Think about it. She's been stuck in Camborne for 35 years. Even refused a holiday in Weston-super-Mare. What excuse did she make? Thought there was arsenic in the water? I don't remember exactly. Anyway, the point is, suddenly she ups and goes to Lambeth Palace. Either she receives her healing there, or the security services deliver her to the best psychiatric treatment in the country. Now, are you paying her fare or are you driving her there?"
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