Mighty hand

“No, this can’t be true. What father can just let his son die for someone who hurt him a lot? ,” I thought. Such questions were signs of my faith deteriorating. I lost interest in what I was reading and as always switched into my immediate favorite time pass, day dreaming. I was in an undaunted reverie depicting a passionate river flowing through a vast area of the greenest of meadows and me wandering around in a white dress on a horse. I got down from the horse and it galloped away to unseen distance, leaving me alone in the valley. The next thing I remember myself doing was screaming out at the touch of warmth of ‘something’ that suddenly fell on my shoulders. I looked to my right and saw a man “Give me a break! There isn’t supposed to be anyone else in my quintessentially, near to perfect dream.” “What if I was young lady?” said he, with a smile. That was when I looked at his face properly and saw his face glowing like the moon in a clear night sky. He took my hand and asked me to follow him and I followed him like an obedient sheep would follow its master. “Hey that is so not me! Am I really doing this?” I thought, while I tried hard to keep pace with him. I could see that I was still at the green pasture and to my surprise he carried me in his arms when I was too feeble to walk. I never felt lighter and comforter anytime before. I wanted to sleep peacefully in his arms and accept his caress. “Hey missy, you better get up and get dressed within 10 minutes. How many times have I told you not to watch late night movies on Saturdays? Don’t you know that you have to go to church now?” My eyes opened wide with all the uncanny noise happening around me. There was no green pasture, there was no river and most importantly there was no man holding me in his hands. I was dazed but had no time to think further as I was pushed towards the bathroom to take a shower as soon as possible. It was when the cold water from the shower poured down on me that I realized it was all a dream. One thing I was sure of was that I had the most wonderful dream I had ever seen and that I felt lighter in my heart.

I took a shower to my satisfaction and dressed up in my pretty yellow churidar. As I entered the church I felt like a princess. It was so stated by my friends that I was at my best self that day. I was happy hearing that and was as proud as I could ever be, of myself. I went and sat beside my friends. I could hear someone whispering in my ears THIS IS YOUR DAY. I got up when my name was called, walked towards the microphone and once at the right place allured into the music being played and started singing ‘This is my story, this is song.’ My eyes were drenched by the time I finished singing. I looked at the audience and saw them applauding. It was as if they were faking the applause because I couldn’t possibly hear them. Somehow I found my way back to my seat and prepared myself for the message from a visiting preacher. He talked about the walk of his life with God. He narrated a series of miseries that happened in his life in spite of which he had an unwavering faith in God. When the whole session was over I went over to him, took him aside and asked him how he could bear all the pain. All he did was place his hand on my shoulders, look into my eyes and say GOD TOOK CARE OF ME WITH HIS MIGHTY HANDS AS HE PROMISED HE WOULD. When I was in bed that night I thought how unfair I had been at times questioning God for some stupid reasons, blaming him for things wrong in my life and being neutral when I read from His word. I thought of those instances in my life when I had a backward faith. The last thing I remember myself thinking before I went to sleep that day was LORD I SUBMIT MYSELF INTO YOUR MIGHTY HAND.