Communication

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His Bride

I was standing at the entrance way of a darkened theater room. Immediately, instinctively, I knew He was there; waiting-waiting for me. I sensed, no, felt His unmistakable presence before my eyes saw his shadowy, lone, solitary figure. Unconsciously, automatically, I walked down the dim aisle and sat next to Him.

Instantly, the screen came to life. A wedding, glorious and much celebrated wedding was taking place. Even the angels in Heaven were participating, singing gloriously, joyfully. The bride was indescribably beautiful. By looking at her, one could not determine her ethnicity. Her appearance was that of many, if not all, races subtly, perfectly combined. She neither needed nor wore any make up or cosmetics. To do so would have been a travesty to her great beauty. Her wedding gown, simple, unadorned, was the whitest of whites. It seemed as if it absorbed every ray of light from the sun, radiating it back with dancing silvery sparkles.

Silently, I turned to look at Him. Never have I ever seen such pure, transparent and unadulterated love shine from ones’ face or eyes. The love He held for her was unmistakably the utmost and profound love that I have ever imagined, let alone, witness. It was so powerful, potent that I, in awe, had to catch my breath.

The scene changed. Even though she still donned her wedding dress, she had matured and grown. Age had been compassionate and she appeared to be even more beautiful than before. Even her wedding dress shimmered and shined with greater velocity. Softly half humming, half singing, she was breastfeeding an infant while several other children happily played at her feet. Others, some half-grown, some fully grown were tending to the other children. Like their mother, her children appeared to be a mixture of every nationality. Her family was healthy and steadily growing. One could sense the strong bonds of love, respect and loyalty within her family.

Another scene materialized. The crowds were laughing, jeering at her and her family. They pointed their fingers, accusingly and condemningly. She began to shrivel under their glaring eyes. Her family was altering too, the different ethnical blending showing different characteristics in her children, erasing the amalgamation. Unity was being replaced by separateness. Her children, influenced by the outsiders began to squabble amidst themselves. She inserted earplugs.

Again the scene changed. She was blindfolded, staggering blindly through the streets, calling out His name. She could not hear His voice over the drone of the crowds. Wildly she followed the different voices of “He’s here-He’s there”, becoming more confused and lost with every twist and turn. Frantically, she continued to blindly stumble and fall, chasing after the unseen voices. “Why does she not remove the blindfold”, I whispered to Him. I felt, sensed, rather than heard His answer of “Because she is afraid of what she might see.”

I gasped audibly at the next picture. She had become a prostitute in every sense of the word. Not only had she become a whore, she also was pimping out her children, male and female. I was aghast at the vulgarity and ugliness of the picture.

Another picture flashed. She was lying on the ground, helpless, bleeding profusely; her wedding gown stained, soiled, tattered. She was hungrily being devoured by a pack of wild wolves. As they had shredded her dress, they now mutilated and dismembered her. Thankfully the screen went blank.

In the darkness of the theater, I still saw the raw pain infused with the unconditional love He had for this woman. I felt His shoulders shudder as He heavily sobbed. His pain was so unmistakable so intense that I could literally feel His heart breaking.

She had been His bride.

Kathleen Ann Shelton

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