Out of My Hands



I had a dark dream the other night. I was faced with the girls in my cabin while I was at camp. Suddenly, a huge list appeared before me. Every detail of what these girls had experienced was written out in the most detailed of fashions. My jaw dropped as I looked it over and I started crying.

I then yelled as loud as I could at the ceiling. (A poor attempt at yelling at God).

WHY??? WHY DID THESE GIRLS GO THROUGH THIS??

I began to sob. It was then that I was silenced. Just as quickly as the list appeared before me, it was swallowed up in a quick flame. It looked like something a magician would do.

Gone.

When I woke up I thought about the night each child wrote out their bad memories and tore up the paper. Those pieces were taken to a camp fire and burned up. I was reminded that I can't be mad for these girls. I was reminded to pray that they would learn which way to lean when they can't stand on their own.

I, in my human condition, will never be as good for anyone as He is.

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