Neely rolled over to her other side, still curled in a ball. Hugging her pillow and semi-unconscious, some part of her mind became aware of other people in the room. But how could there be anyone there? It was the middle of the night. Maybe she was just imagining it. And yet, there was light pressing through her eyelids. How was that possible?
She cracked an eye open but everything was blurry. She tried the other eye. Still blurry. She rubbed them and tried to refocus. Momentarily confused and in shock at how bright it was, her eyesight cleared and she realised she had awoken beside the same body of water her family had lived in front of decades ago. Same sleepy flow. Same willow trees with dancing arms. Same familiar bend around the corner where blackberry bushes ran wild. Same platypus playing by the bank.
She felt soft grass holding her. The midday sun was warming her head. Bird calls were flitting back and forth between neighbouring eucalyptus trees. And to her right was Jesus. Her mouth dropped open. Her eyes widened.
Jesus pointed left. “Look.”
Sitting beside the creek with her head in her hands crying quietly but very angrily, was a young girl with long, straight golden hair. By Neely’s calculation the girl looked to be maybe seven or eight years of age. She was dressed like a middle-aged artist (verging on hippie), earthy, different. And then Papa God spoke:
“Embrace her.”
Jesus looked at Neely and nodded.
“What? What do you mean?” said Neely.
“Embrace her,” came Papa’s voice again.
Neely tried to fit the pieces of whatever this scenario was together in her mind, but they wouldn’t quite fit. It was far beyond her understanding.
Several more moments passed, and then something in her suddenly honed in to what was actually happening and the eyes of her heart opened. She saw—really saw. The girl sitting there crying wasn’t some random child, a run away, or a figment of her own imagination: the girl was her. Little Neely. It was her as a child. She blinked, trying to take it all in.
Little Neely was sat in the same place she had always gone to when she was in distress, frustrated, angry or grieved as a child.
“She has known that I’ve been there for her,” came Papa’s voice to adult Neely—gentler this time. “She has known that Jesus and my Spirit have been there with her… but Neely? She hasn’t known that you’ve been there for her.”
“Why has everyone abandoned me?” Came the cry of little Neely. “Why am I always left to deal with everything on my own? I don’t know how to feel these things—they’re too big for me.”
“Embrace her,” said Jesus. “Let her know you’re here for her. Let her know that from this point forward, she will never be without you.”
Neely stood to her feet, moved gently toward her little self and drew her into a long, safe hug. “It’s ok little Neely. I’m here for you. I’m not going to abandon you anymore.”
Something deep broke in adult Neely and a grief she didn’t know she’d been carrying lifted off her chest. Each tear was a bitter sweet reprieve, and then just as suddenly as the hug had begun, it ended. Little Neely was gone.
Craning her neck to see where little Neely was, she couldn’t see her.
“She’s not separate from you anymore,” said Jesus. “She’s now a part of you. You’re no longer abandoning her.”
The scene gently faded and Neely found herself sitting in her room on her bed in the middle of the night, understanding that some kind of healing had just taken place that no one on earth could have orchestrated in quite the same manner as it had just been done.
“Thank you, Papa. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I understand now.”
Selah.
Photo by Kelly Sikkema
