I first saw your face when you were nine. Or at least that was the age I guessed of the little blond boy who appeared in my dream that night in June. I didn't know your name yet. But our nephew Christopher, though younger in the dream than he is today, had his arm draped over your shoulders and he asked me to take care of you. I woke up with tears, wishing I could scoop up that darling boy who looked up at me with a shy smile. I wish I had known you then.
But I find comfort in the truth that God has known you. He has known when you sit and when you rise. He perceives your thoughts from afar. He discerns your going out and your lying down. He is familiar with all your ways. Before a word is on your tongue He knows it completely. He has hemmed you in - behind and before, and His hand is upon you.
He led us to you. It was a Saturday, on the morning of August 4th, when I opened an email from a dear friend. I read her words, "...I'm pretty sure this boy is supposed to be your son..." and I scrolled down further to see a picture... of the little boy from my dream.
You had grown. No longer 9, now 14. But the same shy smile, and the very same eyes were staring back at me. I wept, because that is what joy looks like sometimes.
Praying you home
Will you help us bring “Dz” home?