Tree

Life is very good.  Sitting in the warm sunshine, I let the gentle warmth reach all the way to my bones.  The air beyond the picture window has a crisp feel and the leaves paint the whole world with colors I don’t even have names for. I am thankful for so much. I pull the fleece blanket close around me and breathe out a deep sigh. My teacup is full and the steam rises into the air like a spirit. I am home and surrounded by family and friends and even a few strangers.  The house is filled with the comforting aroma’s that make holidays so memorable. A huge turkey has been tucked into the oven for the day and the table begins to fill with dishes full of warm favorites.  This holiday is positively overflowing with blessings and comfort. Letting my head fall back into the soft leather couch I drift off, exhausted from the efforts of getting the perfect evening ready. Just having a moment alone to rest with everything I want around me.  I feel that gentle falling feeling that comes with a deep sleep and I slip off to dream. 

A bright hot image begins to form in my mind’s eye and I feel suddenly uncomfortable. I wish at once to be awake again. In the distance I see a small child sitting up against a stark black tree with no leaves.  Where am I? I wonder out loud and try to pinch my arm to wake up. The view remains the same, I hardly feel the pinch, and I move towards the boy against my will. He is very grubby. The flies on his face don’t seem to bother him. He acts like he doesn’t even notice them hum around the dry dusty spot, with no shade from the skeleton branches above. He is staring at me with wide and very black eyes. 

Shame washes over me as I recall my table full of food and comfortable day I had been part of only moments ago. All of the things I was enjoying and not one of them were for my survival. I was living in opulence compared to the bare need of this little one. So hot, so dry and so alone. Calling out to him I watch his nervous eyes flick back and forth as if looking for an escape route. No trust. Slowing my approach I hold out the palms of my hands as if to ‘I come in peace’. Sending out loving vibes I hope he can feel, I sit down gingerly beside him but not so close that he would be scared. He sits in a squat, like a wild rabbit, ready to dart away.  A song from my childhood spills out from my heart in a hum. ‘Jesus loves me’ fills the air around us both. The boy beside me becomes very still, his face and body relaxing. Tears fill my eyes and I can no longer think of the frivolous world I live in. I only want to help this child. My mind is cleared like a muddy glass window letting in the light after a thorough washing.  The song ends and I ask him is name. ‘Justice’ he says weakly. I hung my head at the sound of his name. What could I do for this boy? How could I change how he got to this point? This cannot be okay with the world.

I lean over to touch his hand and wince at the heat I find there. Looking down I realize I have picked up the tea cup and his hand has disappeared. It burns my fingertips and I drop it on the floor with a crash. He’s gone, but not the memory of the sensory assault his world was to mine. I knew in that moment my life would never be the same. Selfish, comfortable, gluttony crashed on the floor with the cup and would no longer rule my holidays. Everyday decisions would have a new filter. The burnt tips of my fingers would be my talisman.

‘Justice’ would visit my dreams on many occasions over the next few months, reminding me to act. This first spirit filled siesta on the couch has pressed me to speak for the lonely and advocate for those without a voice.  Every aspect; the heat, the hunger, the stark loneliness, drives me to chase each opportunity until it is exhausted. Taking the risk, the discomfort, and the sacrifice it may take to cause change.  This dream has become the new bounty in my self centered life and I am governed by the name of the small boy by the stark black tree.