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Stepping Stone Oases

She sits in a small room, her eyes closed, hands open as she waits. Love, soaked into the walls, permeating the air, moves in and around her—a sponge absorbing the Presence. Years of prayer in this room tell.

Three huddle over the room. They too wait.

Can we show her?”

“Yes, but first she must feel the pain.”

“Isn’t that cruel?”

“It’s the only way she will understand.”

“I don’t know if I can watch.”

“We need her to harden as diamonds and soften as gold. Not all can take the heat and pressure but she can. She must.”

“Look! She’s screaming! Her sister is trapped under a car. They can’t get her out. Oh, whew! Finally! But the sister’s face is burned to the bone. Will she live?”

“Yes, but she will need a good surgeon for many years. The parents will spend much time and have great sorrow over this one.”

“And the one we watch?”

“She will feel abandoned, neglected, unwanted. She will choose to withdraw from others and walk alone.

“Alone? She’s just turned four!”

“Yes. She will hurt because of her choice, yet forget she made it.”

“And the pain?”

“Her mother will point her to us. We will provide oases.”


“Yes. Places, people and times of safety and protection.”

“Good. She will need them.”

“They will be what she remembers.”

The child plays on carpet by the window. Alone. Her uncle’s home is safe. The first oasis.

She who sits in the room looks back. She sees stepping stones across turbulent waters. The child stands on the first. It is enough for now. She who sits understands. The pain has breaks, the danger safety, aloneness love. Light, filling the room, pours into her—a solar panel absorbing the Presence for later need.

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Di said…
Oh my!!! Sweetie, thank you for telling me where the story was. WOW!!!!! I am speechless. It is soooo beautiful!!! And as always, it touches a place deep inside of me. Thank you!!!

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