She is called Daughter
She stood there. Watching. Waiting and dreaming.
Watching the wind toss the branches of the trees. Waiting in the stillness. And dreaming of things still to come.
She adored the sweet solace she found on that quiet hill.
How the dainty flowers that grew there, bobbing back and forth in the breeze.
For many years she had come here and always to escape the crowd. How they pushed and pulled her; it filled her head with fog.
So she came to the quiet hill that felt closer to the sky, to have heavenly conversations with the Father of her heart.
Sometimes she would just sit and think.
Other times she might sing. Often she would pick armfuls of blossoms. But always she knew whose watchful eye was over her and she'd smile at the thought.
It was while she was standing there dreaming, that when the breezes stilled, she heard the grasses rustling at her side.
She saw a figure approaching, though she knew not who it was.
He came right beside her and looked her in the eye. But she was not afraid, for he whispered to her, "Daughter".
It was him, her dear Jesus. He had Compassion in his eyes. Peace written on his face and many other beautiful and heartfelt things that made her love Him more but most important of them all was the love that made holes in His hands.
She took His hands in her own and smiled up at him.
They sat and talked for hours about all the troubles and joys of life.
"And about your dreams," He said, "keep them stored in the depths of your heart. For when the time is right my love, I will cause them to take place.
If they are not to be, then you must let it be so. I will always be there next to you, and that is what you must know."
Then He rose to leave and embraced her in His arms. Jesus walked back through the flowers from where He came before.
She watched and saw two pathways, that were imprinted in the grass.
One was hers and one was His.
Side by side, forevermore.
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