The Dance

Hi Bloggers! It's been a while since my last entry due to surgery and recovery. But now dreams and visions are returning.  I share this latest one with enthusiasm expecting it may have a message for you as well as for me.

"THE DANCE" WAS A TOTALLY UNEXPECTED vision.  It didn't appear in a video screen set before my eyes.  At first it was like pictures in my mind.  Now that I think of it, like photos being slid into an old fashioned stereoscope 3D viewer.  My grandmother had one in her parlor on the second floor of a big brownstone home in Philadelphia.  As a small child it was fun to get out a shoe box filled with pictures of family, celebrities, and scenes from all around the world and view them in the stereoscope.  The difference was my vision came with movement and sound.  I watched intently at what is described here, called THE DANCE.

"EVERYTHING ON PLANET EARTH IS IN MOTION".  We think we are standing still, but we are not. We say the sun is rising or setting.  It is not.  Everything is in motion.  Everything has a music, a music of movement, of rhythm and sounds.  Even when sitting in a chair, lying quietly on a bed, poised frozen in fear, or caught in that time defying moment before flight; even when surprised momentarily into silence and inaction, we are still throbbing to unidentified music of a great cosmic heartbeat.  I see fingers on a keyboard, hear breath blown through a golden horn, watch hands stroking strings, or palms pounding drums. - Life is full of compelling motion and sound.  We are receiving a coveted invitation to a dance!

We who know the Lord of the Dance, who is our teacher, the dance creator, the maestro, the song writer, the singer, the symphonic conductor, know that we are His dance partners.  We dance with Him.  We also dance with one another and learn how to swirl, to spin, to sweep, circle, bow and bend.

But we need help, training, pacing, practice.  Some cry, "Teach us Master the SlowStep, the FastStep, the Waltz, the Rumba. - Unify us in the Line Dance, the River Dance, the Polka, the Jig, the Quadrille.  Untangle us when we tangled up in the Tango.  Keep us from stumbling, falling flat, and swing us back up in your arms when we do.  Throw us heavenward like the little children we once were.  Keep our heart beats in sync with yours in the rhythm of the drums You play and the bells You ring.

At the end of the dance whether it comes with a crashing crescendo or faintly hummed refrain, I see the Master lean over and whisper in my/your ear, "You are my beloved partners - forever and ever and ever and ever and ever.  Stay with me and we will build dance halls all over the universe.  Believe in me and we will fill them with dancers!"

Now that you've read about what I saw and heard, here are some things this vision spoke to me.  For each of us there is a message.

A.  Life is in continual motion.  Sometimes we think we are "sitting the dance out", as useless as a bump on a log.  Not so.  Growth, change, movement is taking place. - Living or dying, going forward or falling backward - gaining or losing - building or destroying.

B.  Some one who knows us well is playing a compelling tune we can either dance to, or blot out with the world's powerful discords.  Sometimes heaven's volume is turned down.  Then we must strain to catch the words and melodies.  The more we tune in and listen, the sweeter the music and its messages become, and the more we want to sing along and flow with the dance.

C.  I ask, "Are you acquainted with the Dance Master?" Without knowing Him we can not learn to dance.  Our names must be written on his dance program.  There is no joyful recognition of relationship unless we knock at His door and ask to be invited in.  Knock and you are assured he will open up and welcome you, "Come join the dance."

D.  Dancing takes practice.  Missed steps, falls, bruises, unexpected changes in rhythm are inevitable.  They are all part of the changing tempo of the dance.  Our Dance Master will pick us up and set us on our feet whenever we fall.  The dance will go on and the music will be more beautiful because of the occasional discords woven into it.

E.  The end of today's dance is the beginning of tomorrow's more exciting dance.  We are urged to attend.  We are urged to fill up the dance hall.  If need be we are to go out into the highways, byways, alleys, park benches, schools, halls of government, battlefields, jails, hospitals, churches, synagogues, soup kitchens, broken homes, broken people places, and bring other dancers in. - Do you want to learn to dance?  Are you ready to try some new steps?  What about it?

Do you have any comments? - If so, please enter them here:

Dear Blog Friends,
It may have appeared this Dream/Vision blog had disappeared into a dark hole in space. Not so!


May and June were dedicated to an unexpected surgery, then recovery therapies and ouchy exercises.  Personal dreams ran amuck, often confused and definitely not worth remembering. - But on July 3rd, I woke up singing an American Revolutionary War song, written and very popular in the era of my late childhood. Possibly written by Irving Berlin? (I'm not sure.) The lyrics went like this:

"In '76 the sky was red, thunder rumbled overhead.  Bad King George couldn't sleep in his bed, and on the stormy morn, Old Uncle Sam was born!  Old Sam put on a 3-cornered hat and in a Richman church he sat, and Patrick Henry told him that, while America drew breath, it was liberty or death!"


The words and music repeated themselves three times. - words I hadn't sung for years.  I told myself, "this must be because tomorrow is the 4th of July.  That explains why I woke up this morning singing this wonderful old song."


Now, blogger friends, let me tell you from experience why it is wise to dig deeper when you dream a dream that refuses to be erased from your mind.  The Dream Giver didn't accept my "4th of July" explanation.  Someone from above had something important to say to you and I.  When asked, "Lord, is there something more you want to tell me?"  I picked up my notebook and wrote these words:


"America has once again an important decision to make.  Will she choose Liberty in Christ, given by the one who berthed this nation? - or stumble on into encroaching defeat and death?  Will she follow the pattern of so many countries who disappeared in world history?  Will Americans accept insurmountable problems, despair and darkness, or reach for God's amazing grace?  Who will you follow?  Who gets her allegiance?  Choose well."


Our lives often depend on the choices we make.  The lives of our children and grandchildren are effected by the choices we make.  The very existence of our country as a democracy "of the people, by the people, for the people" will depend on choices made by Americans now. - Again I tell my precious bloggers, "Praise, Pray, Trust GOD and listen well, He will do the rest."


Christ said, " I have come to set the captives free."  He is our redeemer, our champion, our freedom fighter, our God.  Satan the usurper said, "I've come to kill, steal, and destroy."  He is our deceiver, our tempter, our implacable enemy.  Who will you choose to follow?  You are here for this time not by chance but by God's choice. 

Five to Keep

First a poem that insists on announcing this month's dream blog.  It may be a bit of a stretch, but it helps us take a leap of faith that spring will eventually arrive in Grade Ronde Valley.  Even the deepening snows on Mt. Emily, the icy frosts, will give way to wild flowers, mushrooms, and huckleberries that will feed you, the local bears, deer, elk and birds. ~ If you don't care for lyric poetry, hang on, a significant dream will follow.

 "SPRING"  by EJ Donnell
Spring bulbs asleep in their earthly flower beds
felt the tread of human feet, just overhead.
April winds swirled down to breathily blow
the dried leaves away and to melt the late snow.
"Who goes there?" the golden daffodils said,
while White Narcissus yawned and arose from her bed.
Crocuses tiptoed out of dark, crowded rooms.
Lady Hyacinth's hair was curled with perfume.
"Sisters, have you dressed for the great spring ball?"
Asked the Crimson Tulip sitting by the garden gate wall.
Flowers nodded, flashing gowns of gold, pink, violet and white,
for they dreamed of a prince they could dance with all night. -
Or perhaps a dear child who would kneel by them there
and choose a bright blossom to pin in her hair

.
Thanks for indulging me, now the dream, "Five to Keep"

A curious dream! - I was in my yard digging through an established lawn with a small, sharp spade.  Once the turf was broken into I began removing the loose soil below it with my two hands.  The resulting hole was about a foot and a half in diameter, and nearly a foot deep.  Unexpectedly I uncovered a cluster of marble sized white bulbs in the soil.  How did they get there? Who placed them in my yard? Shaped like miniature tulip bulbs they appeared white as bridal satin, poking out of the rich, dark soil.  Even though they had been there for years, incubating below the matted turf, they looked fresh, plump, and ready to burst forth into new life if someone would provide them good soil, fertilizer and water.

Hearing my exclamations of wonder, several neighbors came crowding through the open gate of my yard.  They wanted to see what was in the hole I'd been digging.  Three or four asked if they could have some of the tiny bulbs.  One neighbor told me he thought they were a variety of an old time flowering plant, one rarely seen in our area.  "Could he take some and try to grow them?"  I responded, "Sure, go ahead, help yourself to a few."

As I continued digging, carefully scooping out the soil, more bulbs were revealed.  I was pleased.  There were enough to give to those who wanted some.

One older lady standing there seemed especially eager to get the bulbs.  She didn't ask my permission but got down on her knees, reached in the hole and took all she could find, putting them quickly in her jacket pocket. I was able to remove more dirt and uncovered five more bulbs.  I decided I'd better keep these five as I could find no more buried there.  But the older lady reached over to try and take the last five, aggressively attempting to remove them from my hand.  When I closed my fingers over them, she asked, "can't I have these too?" I emphatically replied "NO! These are the last ones and these are mine!"  The woman scowled and marched out of the yard.  Other onlookers drifted off.  A man and woman remained to thank me, and then they too left.

I stood looking at the tiny white bulbs still in my hand.  "I will plant you" I mused.  I will see you grow and watch for the unusual flowers you produce.  You, little bulbs are unexpected treasures, put here by the Master Gardener. -When I woke up from this dream the thought was clear.  "I am so glad I didn't carelessly give away all of my treasures.  The last five were meant just for me."

I invite you to discuss what you believe this dream means.  Did you get a message from it for yourself? If so please share.

The Choice is Yours.......................

Did you read parts 1 and 2 of this blog “TOTAL TRUST” - “The Raft Dreams”?  Did you see and hear the screaming monkeys swinging through tree tops overhead? Imagine the crouching tigers? Cling to the cross like post in the center of the raft, and miraculously take a raft ride over dangerous falls with me? If so, today’s blog tells the summation of the two “cliffhanging” dreams.  This writer is not one of the prophets Joel’s “young men who will see visions” as in Joel 2:28.  I am an elderly dreamer who unexpectedly experienced a Vision that was obviously an attachment to the two Raft Dreams.  How did this happen?- While sitting fully awake and thinking about other things, my surroundings faded and what follows played across the screen of my mind.  Why a vision? Why not another dream? I don’t know.  Perhaps the vision was breathed into my own God given imagination.  As it unfolded it grabbed my attention and I hope it grabs yours too.  God speaks through our imagination.

THE VISION:
I saw myself standing on the raft, peering downstream.  The current moved me steadily forward.  The end of the journey neared.  There were no more threatening things blocking my way.  I was carried along with the river, relaxed and enjoying my surroundings.  The water was so clear I could see the sandy river bottom and flashes of silver-gold fish darting out from around river rocks.  Air borne sweet perfumes, distilled from flowers and foliage along the river banks filled the air.  Lazy white clouds above me floated in a huge blue umbrella sky.  Peace, peace filled the vision.

I was startled, not frightened, when I saw a tall, muscular, man clothed in brilliant white standing near me.  His feet were bare on the deck of the raft.  His smile enveloped me and I looked at him with confidence and recognition.  We were friends.  I said something like: “I know this is the end of the journey, but what now?”  He grinned, nodded, and pointed. “See, the river has finished it’s course.  It’s pouring into that great ocean ahead.  You won’t need the raft any more.  You won’t need to cling to the wooden post for support.  It’s time to abandon ship.  Leap off the raft and follow me.  We’ll swim to that large sailing vessel floating out there in the deep.  Do you see it now?  The crew and passengers are eagerly waiting for us to join them.”

“But - But - But, that’s a long way to swim.  What if I sink and drown? I don’t swim like I did when I was younger.  The raft is my security.  Can’t I stay on it and still reach the ship?”

“No, you can’t.  We’ve come to the river’s end.  Jump off and follow me.” He had already jumped and with strong rhythmic strokes was swimming in the direction of a large sailing ship.  As he moved further away I became frantic.  “Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me,  I’m afraid!”  My lips quivered.  I wiped my eyes with my shirt sleeve.  He never hesitated swimming, but glanced over his shoulder, shouting, “JUMP!” I jumped.

What happened next was amazing.  I rose quickly to the surface and the water itself carried me in the direction of the ship.  I raced to catch up and follow my swiftly swimming friend.  He looked over his shoulder and gave a joyful shout of approval.  My body was tireless, strengthened, energized with every stroke of my arms, kick of my legs and flutter of my feet.  Soon I was close to the sailing vessel.  My friend was already climbing up rope ladders to a group shouting, applauding passengers and crew members waving vigorously from the deck.  I followed after him.  Several arms reached out to help me over the ship’s railing.  Some of them knew who I was and called me by name.  THEN THE VISION FADED AS DID THE LAUGHTER, JOY, ENCOURAGEMENT, APPLAUSE; BUT MY ENERGY REMAINED.

Concluding Comments:

Have you ever found yourself confined in a small space with no control of what happens or knowledge of how to get to an unknown destination?  When you reach the end of the river your “friend” finally shows up and tells you to jump off the raft and follow him.  Suddenly you want to cling to the raft rather than swim in a great uncharted sea, going toward a grand ship that looks far, far away.  The choice is yours.  Will you trust your friend’s command and “jump” or will you “play it safe” and stay where you are?  Yes, the raft is confining.  Yes, there are known dangers around you, but you, are familiar with them.  Besides you have that post to cling to, and you’ve become accustomed to the loneliness.  Is this enough?  Will you STAY or JUMP?  The choice is yours, to trust GOD or stay put.  This choice is always yours.

Evelyn

TOTAL TRUST continued........

In January 2012 we gave an example of a dream that spoke to us about having “TOTAL TRUST” in the God who created us and is personally involved in our lives.  Not easy to do when you find yourself on paths uncalled for, unexpected, unmapped.  Paths that you never would have chosen to follow, but there you are, floating down a river on a raft with no paddle and no visible provisions for your trip.

As an experienced traveler you anticipate dangers.  You shout questions heavenward to a God you can’t see.  You think this is a ridiculous situation, traveling on a raft totally out of  control.  Then you hear an “inner voice” telling you, “Just cling to the large post stuck in the center of the raft and ride this journey out.”

TOTAL TRUST continued……………….
The river is moving, at a normal flow and not with troubled currents.  I sit down, my back against the rough post centered on the raft taking time to look around.  The river continues to smoothly run downstream.  The sun is high in a blue, cumulus clouded sky.  The river banks on either side are green with trees, vines, and a few brilliant flowers framed by dark shadows.  Everything but the rhythmical splashing of water against the raft is quiet.  My heart calms.  I relax.  The post at my back is not uncomfortable and I begin dozing.

The audible lap, lap of water against the raft quickens with the current.  Instantly alert, I look down river to see what is ahead.  There is a sharp bend in the river, visible rushing white foam, indicating a possible water fall.  I tell myself, if I had a pole I’d poke it down into the river bed and try to push my raft over to the bank.  Maybe I could drag it up onto the land.  Then I’d decide what to do, whether to stay there or go back into the river.  Either option could be dangerous.  But I have no options, no paddle, no oars.  So I must stay on the raft and ride out whatever is ahead.

The raft bumps, thumps, tips back and forth and careens in half circles, moving fast as it approaches the bend ahead and a drop in the river.  A few large rocks are sticking out, above the swirling currents.  Instinctively I stand and grab the post in the center of the raft.  Water splashes over my feet.  Spray hits my face.  The bundle of possessions roped on the raft stays in place.  The raft seems to make its own passage through the turbulence.  We drop over the edge but somehow remain upright.  Had it not been for the post I clung to, I surely would have slipped overboard.  But now, once again I am in smooth water.  The river widens.  I see further ahead.  I sink down to my seat against the wooden post, relieved.

The sky remains clear, unperturbed.  Midday sun has moved a quarter turn toward the West.  Air is slightly breezy, sweetly scented and pleasantly warm.  The river banks on both sides of me are farther apart, but even so I can see into a tangled undergrowth of trees.  There’s a chattering noise in the treetops.  A troop of monkeys swing by, unconcerned about the raft.  Some large colorful birds fly overhead.  Then moments of quiet are broke  by sounds of larger, heavier animals moving through the brush.  I want  to cry out, frightening away whatever is out there, but I’m afraid.  So I sit motionless on my raft, looking and listening intently.  Then I catch a glimpse of a great striped cat, soundlessly, stealthily moving through trees.  Another one stands motionless in tall grass, eyes staring at me.  The monkey begin screeching and I am glad I am not traveling on land but am in the middle of the river.  The raft is taking me quickly away with strong currents.  The sturdy, rough wood taking me quickly away with strong currents.  The sturdy, rough wood against my back feels comforting.  I cling tenaciously to the post, remembering the “Inner Voice” that advised me to do so when this journey began.  I take a few deep breaths and begin humming a hymn learned many years ago.  “Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound-”

A breeze that was once gentle begins to blow sharply against my face.  There is a drop in temperature.  Looking up I see the once white clouds overhead have become dark gray, threatening, pregnant with rain.  Again the raft goes into a topsy-turvy thumping, bumping over the agitated water.  I cling tightly to the post.  When a lightening struck tree explodes on the bank nearby, my grip becomes tighter.  I’m doing what I was told to do, now the rest is up to God.  “Father, you made the lightening bolts; so you can contain and control them.”   I am pelted by rain, but strangely do not shake with fear or cold.  “It is well, it is well, it is well with my soul”.  Perhaps “trust” to be “trust” must always be tested.  The dream is ended but the message remains.

TOTAL TRUST

As we begin the year 2012 as I was typing this blog post, I believe the Lord is calling us to a place of total trust in Him!
Maybe you've never thought, "God wants to communicate with me!" I am not a great prophet, a King Solomon, or a Queen Esther who saved her people from genocide.  The bible is full of dreams and visions sent to men and women in order to establish communication with God and between people.  Understanding their pictorial, symbolic, language can easier than you think.  Like learning any new language the more you remember your dreams and write them down, the more sense they make and the more proficient you become in interpreting them.  Dreams are often full of common place symbols of your life.  If you access the Holy Spirit, He will help you understand them.  The Spirit will be your teacher.  Other help can come from knowledgeable friends who listen and help you understand.  The best help of all, comes when you access the bible the teachings of Jesus, and knowing Him, will assure knowing what your dream says.  It could contain warnings, prophecy, a nudge in the right direction.  It could teach you to make good decisions, or give you the affirmation you need.  Whatever it is, the pictorial dream language may at first seem confusing, scary, senseless, but can become an important message from on high, one that changes your life.

AN EXAMPLE: A dream I had some years ago:

I am floating on a narrow river on a small raft.  The raft is made of rough cut logs, bound together by thick cords.  A heap of personal belongings, covered by a waterproof tarp is roped to one corner of the raft.  I can’t see what is under the cover, but I know that it is necessities - food, water, a blanket, matches, flashlight, etc.  I don’t have any interest in undoing the bundle. I am alone, very alone, on this small raft.  There is no room for other people. In the center of the raft is a long, solid, wooden pole.  It is higher than my head and firmly attached to the raft.  It should stay standing even in a storm.  I have no fear that it will fall down on me, or unbalance the raft. But I’m apprehensive about traveling on the river.  No one will be with me for companionship, help, or comfort.  I am busy checking my surroundings.  All of a sudden I realize with great emotion, there is no way for me to steer this raft! - No one pole, no oars, no paddle.  What will happen if I hit a protruding rock? - If there are torrents of raging white water ahead? Can I survive without a steering mechanism? I seem to be desperately shouting out these questions as though someone can hear me and will answer.  I begin crying. Then a quiet, authoritative voice says:
“Yes, you have nothing to steer this raft with.  You don’t need anything. You have ME. You won’t be grounded against the shore, I will get you around the rocks, I will take you over the rapids.  I am all you need. - But you must cling to the wooden post in the center of the raft.  I again access the sturdiness of the post.  It’s attached firmly and has a cross post near the top. - I wake up no longer weeping, no longer filled with anxiety.  It is daylight.

I believe the interpretation of this dream is simple, not complex.  It helped to change some of my own attitudes and took care of some of my fears.  Later, the Lord gave me another dream, a continuation of this one.  I experienced the river trip itself and an unforgettable ending as we finished the journey.  This will be on my next post for the blog.

THE CHRISTMAS GOOSE

While on the phone with our son, Michael I asked if he remembered goose hunting at Tulelake in California? His response was immediate and enthusiastic. “oh Yes, Mom, the clear cold nights, snuggling down in sleeping bags. Our old umbrella tent. Geese flying in, honking, silhouetted against a full moon. We watched them come.
“It was beautiful wasn’t it Michael?” - So beautiful we didn’t mind shivering in the cold, breathing out great gusts of frosty air, our mouths open in wonder.
Our family had come to Tulelake to hunt geese. Michael and Dad were the hunters. Lana, our daughter and I came to cook on the camp stove, scrub dirty dishes in a kettle of steaming suds, air out sleeping bags and sweep the tent floor. We hoped this effort would produce a juicy, fat goose for our Christmas dinner. I had prayed while still at home that we would be successful hunting. But now I felt a little ambivalent after experiencing last night’s glorious sights and sounds as the birds we hunted returned to their natural habitat by the lake.
In early morning I fed our hunters a substantial breakfast and Lana and I waved “goodbye” just as daybreak arrived. Guns cracked and banged, accompanied by shouts from hunters and shrill whistles for game dogs. We wondered if Dad and Michael had brought down a goose as we scrubbed cooking pots and dirty dishes. Next we put our sleeping bags back in the tent. Activity was accompanied by fewer shotgun blasts as the sun rose higher in a clear sky. Lana and I brought out favorite books, ready to read and wait. Then the unexpected happened! I stood up, looking intently at the raised, man made road bridging the tulles. It seemed covered with light. It was just wide enough for two vehicles to pass each other, and tulles covered the area on either side. An insistent voice spoke beside me, or inside me, I don’t know which. I was urged to walk up that road: “Walk the road, Evelyn. Walk until you know you should stop. There’s a goose caught in the tulles. You’ll hear her cries ad thrashing about. Go get her, now!”I called to Lana, “Put away your book.” Pointing in the direction of the road, I said excitedly, “We’re going to take a walk and we’re going to bring back our Christmas goose!”
“What are you talking about, Mama? We’re not hunting. How can we get a goose? The guys have the guns.”
“I’m not sure Lana, except I know we are going to walk on that road, cut through the tulles and we will come back with a goose!”
“oh, Mama, won’t Dad and Mike be surprised if we do? Let’s go!”
We walked less than a mile. Lana’s shorter legs had no trouble keeping pace with my cautious, slow, stride. Our feet stopped at a certain spot and I put my finger on my lips so Lana would be quiet. We both peered all around. Then several feet, off road, we heard a thumping and fluttering. The voice whispered, “See, there us your goose. Walk through the Tulles and get her.” I hesitated. “When I find her, what then? - What do I do with a live, injured goose?” Silence, except for my racing heart.
I told Lana to wait for me on the road because the ground was wet and mucky - too difficult for her to walk through. Then I climbed down the bank and headed in the direction of the distress signals. When I reached the right spot a large goose was frantically trying to flap its broken wings. I felt a mixture of fear, sorrow and deep remorse. When the bird saw me, she tried to scramble away, but became more entangled in the undergrowth. The Voice spoke again. “Here is the Christmas goose you prayed for. Pick her up by the legs, and quickly end her pain and suffering.”I followed directions, grasping strong, slender legs and lifting her up bodily. She instantly calmed down. I then saw a large rock sticking up through the mud. “Swing hard and strike her head against the rock. She’ll die quickly and feel no pain” - I swung with all my might, tears pouring down my checks. - It was over. I carried the beautiful goose back to the road. Lana who was laughing and clapping her hands, exalted: “Mama, we did it - we got a Christmas goose! - Mama, why are you crying?”
“Because she is dead and she was so beautiful. But she had to die to provide a goose for our Christmas dinner.”
When Dad and Michael came back there were no geese hanging from their belts or feathers sticking out of their game bags. They were tired, hungry and disappointed. Lana could hardly wait to tell them, “Don’t worry. Mom and I got one. We got our Christmas goose!” By this time the goose was de feathered, cleaned and stored in the ice chest. When we exhibited the prize and told the remarkable story of finding her, my tears ceased, and I joined in with a family celebration that our hunt had been successful. Mike and Lana put goose feathers in their caps, and later as we bowed our heads to thank God for ham and cheese sandwiches and apple cider, we also thanked God for giving us a goose for Christmas.
WHAT DID I LEARN FROM THIS? - God cares for us. He cares so much that He granted my prayer and sacrificed a precious goose taken from his wild flocks. - I also learned GOD weeps with us when anyone, man or animal, is wounded, suffering and dying. “Even a sparrow”, Jesus said, “is known by the Lord.” But especially a goose I thought. It helped knowing my tears were also His tears. How do I know this? I just know.
God played the major part in this story. He gave me the light enhanced vision of the road I must travel. By His direction I was told to stop in the exact place, at the exact moment to find the wounded goose. By His unique placement a rock was sticking out of the mud so I could end her suffering quickly. I was directed by Him. He is not a remote, uncaring, disinterested God. His grace is always near. He answers heartfelt prayer, even by providing a goose for a family’s Christmas dinner.