Yet another dream.
This time I am walking into a hospital, and when I enter the double doors I am immediately in a large room lined with hospital beds and children are everywhere. I know that they all have various forms and stages of cancer, but you wouldn’t know it by the way they are acting.
They are talking, laughing, playing.
In the first bed there is an adult, and he is a bit sicker than everyone else. He is talking to a doctor who somehow I know though I never see his face. He is gentle. Compassionate.
As the doctor walks away from this bedside to go to the next, the man in the bed looks to me. He knows he is at the end but there is no fear. He is ok. Even content. I see this as we talk for a moment.
I am there to find Carli. I have a bouquet of yellow flowers to give her but I know she is not on this floor. She is somewhere above, I believe on the top floor. I would go up yet I have never been here and I am not exactly sure where she is located.
The nurses are all busy going from child to child so I stand there waiting for one to give me a moment. Waiting for directions and permission to go on up.
This Sunday was my last at this small church Templo Betel. I can’t really find the right words to tell what this place has meant to me. What pastor Montero (my second spiritual father), his wife and the people here mean to me. How grateful I am to have been allowed to be a part of music and worship team.
How I fell in love with Sunday mornings.
My favorite day of the week.
Their love has been a balm of medicine for my soul.