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Topic: TEARS - (as in crying) (10/04/04)
TITLE: The Comfort Bringer
By darlene hight
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“What seems to be the problem?”
“ I wish to be reassigned.”
“Reassigned? You were created for this assignment. Your name gives testimony to your design. Does it not mean comfort?”
I’ve always felt pleased to be a comfort bringer but their burdens have gotten so heavy.”
“You were never meant to carry their burdens, except to bring them to me.”
“Yes, I’ve been foolish but that is not the only reason for my decision. As I sat by his bedside last night, I didn’t bring comfort. His wife is gone from him. He must raise a daughter alone. He’s afraid and his comfort bringer didn’t bring him comfort. I have failed him and you, my Lord.”
“ It was his time to grieve and your time, as well. He wasn’t ready to receive comfort and you, dear friend, weren’t ready to bring it.”
“Am I now ready?”
“Where will you receive the comfort that you wish to bring?”
“It will come from you, Lord.”
“Menachem, go. Do as your name instructs you. Now is your time.”
As Menachem entered the man’s room, he saw him sleeping. It was sleep born of exhaustion, emotional and physical. Menachem carried in his hand a jar of tears collected from the previous night. “Lord, show me.” He prayed.
Instantly, he saw a woman running through a field of daisies. The field wasn’t of this world. Dew glistened on the flowers.The dew also not of this world rather it’s translucence glittered with touches of lilac, pale blue, pink and coral. It glittered as if the garden was star filled. The daisies, likewise, were of a heavenly place. Their centers shone golden as if dipped in sunshine. Their petals as white and shimmering as angel wings.
Menachem touched the man’s head. The man received the vision. “Oh!” He moaned his face awash with peace. His fitful sleep replaced by rest. A rest one finds in the arms of a loved one.
Menachem smiled. Yes, this was what he was created for. He is a comfort bringer, after all. Menachem tilted the jar of tears back and forth in his hand. The tears shimmered in the sunlight translucent glittering with touches of lilac, pale blue, pink and coral. Each tear had been carefully recorded last night. In a short while the tears will be sprinkled over the daisy field where the man’s daughter plays. Not only will the man receive comfort this day but also purpose. Nothing is wasted. Not one tear will fall without purpose, each one a droplet of hope.
Psalm 56:8 You number my wanderings; Put my tears into your bottle; Are they not in your book? NKJV