Monday, 15 November 2010

The hand that rocks the cradle...

In the moonlit night, I am alone and asking myself this question how have I come to be in this place of isolation. I notice the power lines, a huge power pole and a small drainage area nearby. I can hear the whispers in the night and feel the breeze that blows at me yet I am puzzled at my reason for being here. Eventually bewilderment turns into paranoia and I do my utmost to retreat back to where ever I think came from without success. It then occurs to me that I am here on appointment and not by will. Then there is a thought. Contrary to my neglected surroundings I am filled from within and listen for any sounds that can give me a clue of what is happening. I can see my past, an endless voyage taping into the resources of life. Today in this darkness that past seems like decades away.
As I float in the dark my gaze turns to the sky and upwards, I don’t know why I am here but I shall enjoy the night. I stare blindly at the stars and the moon until it happens. A large hand appears out of a black hole in the sky and in the light of the moon and the stars opens right before me. I am in awe, yet on impulse I place mine in it and as we touch, I whisper in a voice that I have never heard before, ‘Thank you Father.’ And the hand disappears as the sky returns to how it was before.
This experience has revealed something to me. In our daily lives we are not so different from the babies that lie helpless in the courts we build with such loving care and endearment for them. When we reach out to rock their cradles and see joy and laughter in their eyes there is a sense of warmth and achievement from both sides as we share this moment. The same is true when God reaches out to us. We may live in an estranged world not knowing one day from the next or what befalls our surroundings. Yet we must remember that the hand that rocks our cradle knows best of what we need…

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