This Sunday, i needed encouragement.
It felt like... i was walking with my Dad.
i was walking and my hand was in His... and i glanced up into His face - & He, looking down into mine - saw my need without me saying a word.
i went to say hello to my friend - and her dad walked up to us both.
"When i see you... i see my mom..." He spoke thickly to me... this ancient man giving what was obviously a compliment to this middle aged mama...
And then he layed his large hand on my head - and prayed a blessing... an anointing... on me. Little ones twisting around in my skirts paused - and i closed my eyes and received this word of Truth from my Father.... tears pricked my closed eyes and i stood - accepting this baptism of prayer like a child under a water spout - eager for a soaking
It reminded me of other words spoken over me - poured like a venom.
And i remember being certain that they weren't Truth.
And if i weren't walking hand in hand with my Papa... could i tell one from the other? Would i have received one with the same reflex as the other? Would i have allowed that poison to seep into my pores... through my skin and bones... right down into my very soul?