Marbles In My Pocket ~ The Official Blog of Charles L. Mashburn ~ Poems, Short Stories, and random thoughts from the author of "Be Still… and know that I am God"

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.

I 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.