We still have work to do …

(Okay, I know some of you don’t like when this happens. I can’t help it when the blog posts come as stories! See, they are not my stories. They come from a Higher Source.)

“The tide has turned,” he said. “Keep up the good work, my friends.”

The voice sounded like a trumpet, but I couldn’t see its source. I recognized its friendly lilt, though. It called my attention to his world and my eyes were opened.

I’m in the classroom again, although it’s not really the classroom. The student desks are gone, replaced by … well, nothing. The stage where Teacher’s desk used to be holds only a colorfully upholstered wing-back chair in which sits an old man. His right hand grasps the head of a cane. He seems to be a quiet man, sort of like Gandhi but larger, so much larger. And much more intimidating.

His gaze burns through me as he speaks.

From the corner of my eye, I could see the Dragonfly flutter onto a branch respectfully.

His guest continues, “Now, the question is, can humanity learn to find their own truth in the Grand Truth of the Creator? Too many have turned from the words set down for them in that Great Guidebook of their existence.

“They fight against the words because of the person behind the sermon or the judgment, but do they ever study the words? From my experience, I would say the answer is too often in the negative.

They should be encouraged to find their own Truth through the Word before they pass judgment.”

He stopped talking then, his gaze moving from me to a distant spot over my right shoulder. The silence continues. I have no words as my mind runs over the moment, the awe this man inspires in me, the respect he seems to inspire from The Dragonfly.

“You can ask me any question now,” he says.

But I can’t. I have no questions because as soon as one pops into my head, I know the answer. Immediately.

Then the right question pops in and I know the answer, but I have to ask. I have to get the truth in something more verifiable than my own thoughts.

“Thank you, sir. Forgive me for my ignorance, but what is your name?” I say.

His answer comes forcefully, “I am, I am.”

My mind runs this acknowledgement over in my head. I remember the words from the Bible, but I can’t believe my teacher has such Friends in High Places.

He moves his cane in front of his knees and joins his left hand and his right over the head, loosely linking the fingers of both hands.

“There is much to question in your reality, my child.”

I bow my head in shame, “but too many of us don’t question. Too many of us accept and fall in with the crowd or ignore because it’s too difficult to question.”

“Very wise words,” he says.

I glance toward him. He is now leaning back into the chair, holding what looks like a papyrus bible. The cane is leaning against the whiteboard behind him. But it’s not a whiteboard; it’s a wall of white marble.

“You have been taught that speaking about me is wrong and divisive. That couldn’t be further from the truth, although in defending your own truth, many disrespect the truth of others. That is not their place. I ask only that my children respect my wishes. Among those is the desire that they not judge each other. Neither themselves, it must be told. Judgment is only the tool of the Creator.”

My mind is blank. I can’t think of anything else to say. Then I remember The Dragonfly’s words about the tide turning.

“So if we are still wrong in the way we do things, if too many of us are opting for the divisions we see in each other instead of in the unity of the creatures on Earth, why did my teacher blow his trumpet about the tide turning?”

A sly smile sneaks onto his face, “Your teacher is a tad impulsive,” he says. “In a sense, though, he is correct. Humanity is awakening from their sleep. They are beginning to see that tear in the matrix that has become their reality. It is revealing the truth of my promise.”

He cradles the Holy Book in his hands and stretches it out toward me.

Instinctively, I accept his offering, not realizing the significance.

“There are still so many undiscovered truths that must be acknowledged, but something has changed.”

I kneel because that’s what I think I should do, “Will you tell me what has changed, where have you seen the change in humanity?”

He shakes his head, “The questions are over. You will find the answers in the book I have placed in your hands. Now, let he with eyes to see, see.”

The classroom suddenly disappears and I’m in my home again. The book, still in my hands, has become a little more portable. There are bookmarks throughout the book. I turn to one and find the story of Joseph in Genesis. It’s a wonderful one about faith and patience.

I guess I have some more reading to do. I’ll let you know what I learn.

Much love,

The Dragonfly’s Student


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