Jesus Wept

For this post to mak sense, maybe go read the old blog post, first.

He came for a visit last night.  The only dream I had, or at least that I can recall.  He didn’t want tea or cookies or banana bread or cinnamon rolls.  He looked...I dunno...shattered, maybe...?

He wanted comfort.  He never said a word, just leaned on me.  I held him as he wept, absorbed his tears in my shirt and let his sobs shake me.  I suppose even he needs a safe space to decompress.  In all the dreams over all the years, I’ve never seen him like this.  I patted and rubbed his back, cupped the back of his head like a mother does when comforting her child, and quietly let him know that I’ve got him, that he can let it all out, let it all go.

Near broke my heart.

After a long while, he straightened, sighed, gave me a brave, watery smile, and turned to go.

“I’ll be here”, I told him.

He looked back, smile a little steadier, then walked away into the darkness all around us.

Oh, how I wish I could heal his hurt.