Posts Tagged death is the ultimate healing miracle

Butterfly Kisses

It came quietly—a small aching pain—and I ignored it, thinking I’d probably had worse pains, and they all went away on their own. But this one didn’t. I fought on, never doubting I could defeat whatever it was with sheer determination, exercise, and stubbornness. But the pain got worse, and my dogged resistance began to wane. When I couldn’t walk without excruciating pain, I told myself it was the dark before the dawn, and I would wake up one day soon and wonder where the pain had vanished to. And I did. The walls behind her were a pale green, but everything else seemed whiter than white, except the tubes and gadgets that seemed to be everywhere.

She wore a blue dress that looked strangely familiar but in a way that seemed distant—like a memory that chases along the edge of your mind but won’t let you fully grasp it. She smiled, and there was no fear in her eyes, so I figured I was going to live. I smiled back at her, then suddenly realized the pain was gone. My smile slipped into a frown as I thought, meds… they’ve got me all doped up. Her smile remained, and I could see so much love in her beautiful brown eyes. I wanted to be angry about the drugs, about being in a hospital, but her eyes wouldn’t let me. I hadn’t even noticed she was holding my hand until she squeezed it ever so gently and said, “I’ll leave you two to talk.” She leaned in and gave me a quick kiss on the lips, and when she raised up her eyes glistened with tears, but her smile never faltered. “You’re anointed,” she whispered; something we’d been telling each other every morning for more years than I could remember. When she turned and walked toward the door, He was standing there.

He had a lopsided grin on his face and in His eyes was something I’d never seen before but knew in an instant was the greatest love I would ever know. And, somehow, I could almost fathom the deepness of it but not quite. It was so close, but yet, not close enough to touch.

Jesus kissing childI spoke quietly. “Are you going to heal me?” His expression—the grin—never changed and in an instant, He was leaning over me. His lips touched my forehead and it was like a butterfly lighting for a split second then floating away on the breeze. But it wasn’t a butterfly floating, it was me.

Love, joy and peace washed over me like a million of His butterfly kisses, and pain was but a vague memory. Yes… like a memory that chases along the edge of your mind but won’t let you fully remember it.

In a while that had no length we stood before a brilliant light that glowed in every direction. It filled all time and space and seemed to have within it every color imaginable. And then Jesus spoke. “Father, Charles is here.”

I was home.

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