You appeared at the door and gently walked in. At first glance, I called you by another name. The closer you came to me, I could see the little girl I once knew. I got up from my sleeping, and I walked to you. My eyes focused with more attention to the details. I adjusted my eyes to the darkness and the light from the hallway. You were different. I hardly recognized you as you talked. I saw how the surgery had made a positive difference , and I was happy for you. You also wanted to be seen as someone else with different hair, makeup, and expressions. I listened as you began to unpack your items. “I’m coming home mom.” I stood there with a million questions running through my mind. “Home?” “To stay?” “To heal?” In a flood of connection and tension that could have gone wrong, we instantly were transported to a courtyard. I was holding you. Your father was seated on a bench praying. We began to hear a group of singers. They were gathered to minister to those hurting and desired to comfort those who were getting ready to go to another place. I was not told where you were going, and I became overwhelmed with love and concern. As the angelic voices sang out the words, “Jesus is near!”, you began to cry. “Mom, I can’t believe they are singing this song. It’s my song mom. Jesus is near, mom!” It mattered not where you were going. I grabbed you close, and I thought, “Oh precious child, you are finally home.”

My eyes opened from the dream. Tears in my eyes. Thank you God for your unending love and amazing grace that reaches into our darkest of nights. We are all on that ultimate journey home, Lord. Be with my girl, God. Hold us near and bring us all home to you.

I love you my sweet girl. Always…..

Mom