Last night, as I was falling asleep, I went to visit my heavenly father.
Now, not to be mistaken, this is not the creator of the universe, he is my personal father god, that has communed with me throughout my lifetime.
Although I’m a woman of many years, I crawled up into his lap like the spiritual toddler that I am. His eyes lit with joy, as he smiled at me and
gave me a big hug.
After the quick exchange of reunion, with a true sense of curiosity and love, he addressed me by his pet name for me, asking,
“Tell me about your day, what have you done for your brothers and sisters today?”
“Chores” I answered. But I knew that chores weren’t good works, they were merely the mundane necessities of life, and there is no divinity in
“I’ve written and spoken about you.” But I knew, as I said it, that it was all in vain, as it was done for my own satisfaction.
“I have stood up for the weak.” But I have failed to succeed in liberating even my own weaknesses.
“I create beautiful things that are inspired by the mysteries and beauty of life.” But I make these things to sell, to pay my rent.
My heavenly father tapped me on the nose, and smiled. “Your still a child, don’t worry. Just keep at it. I’m happy you came to visit.”
Then I fell into a deep, restful sleep.
This morning I'm thinking, "Why didn't I ask any questions!?"
edit on 13-5-2012 by windword because: spelling