A Story: Seeing & Knowing, A Day in the Life of a Seer

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Quiet green rivers inside.
I prayed for peace and got picturesque.
I prayed for joy and a fountain of tears fell.
My faith must be lacking although my
heart is over full.

I’m a bundle of feelings and darkness and light.

Holding the baby boy in the store I felt God pressing into me.
I saw what I usually only see in meditation:
rivers and stars, trees and valleys.
His eyes were full of the universe’s mysteries
and love from the heart of God.
His hands held the nations and
his feet kicked with authority.
Destiny. I saw his destiny.
A warrior man wrapped in an infant’s body
being trained to rule.

God, why do you show me such things? My heart is fried today
yet still I see. Always, you let me see.

The old man at the store. Another Nathan. A prophetic father.
Broken and arthritic yet smiling like a groom on his wedding day.
Joy oozing from his pores and pain coursing through his body.
And his eyes. Eyes that know. Eyes that see.
When he took my hand I thought my heart would break again.
The pain of decades. I felt his sorrow and losses … and then his joys and triumphs.
Then he said what Dad always said: “Tell me what you see.”

Inwardly I panicked. Was it a trick?
Was he a kindly seeking watcher sent after me?
Or was he God’s messenger when I’m pushing through dark rubble?

Again, “tell me what you see”, gently insistent.
It felt like he was reminding me I’m a seer.
Pulling me back to earth and out of my soul’s crashing.

So I looked in his eyes and saw and told him what I saw.
“Decades of life. A happy marriage. A blue-eyed wife.
Dancing together everywhere: under the stars in the middle of a barnyard.
Dancing in a tiny kitchen.
Dancing in the street in the rain.
3 sons, 2 daughters.
A church. Small church. 57 members.
Green grass. Cemetery behind the church.
Singing. You love to sing! In Latin and Greek, in German in French!
I see a young soldier on a coastline and dead bodies all around him.
I see cows and chickens, horses and goats.
I see a factory and darkness. Sadness. Sickness.
I see a gravestone: ‘Marcie, beloved wife’.
I see a beach and you sitting there on a chair in the sand, reading, singing, weeping and singing some more.
I see you. You know how to love well and how to be loved.”

He kissed my cheek and said “you know how to love well, too. Crying will pass. Joy will return.”

And then he was gone.

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