Dedicated to my partner with loving thoughts; to Houdini and my Dragonqueen who unknowingly instilled in me the power of words and to my “lilone” for her unquestionable loyalty.

Constructive criticism always welcomed please write Xavier.

The wide expanse of grass made gentle waves as the wind softly whispered in the air.

I sat along the edge of the river, the water not quite reaching my feet, watching the trees surrender to the light streaming between the branches. The murmuring of the water, the chirping of the birds, the clean smell of nature brought surprising relief to my tortured, battered soul.

Lowering my head, I looked behind the trees in front of me. There was a movement but from where I was I could not see what could have caused it. There was something different about that movement. Lying down I closed my eyes and tried to remember the last time I had laughed. I feel asleep.

An hour or so later, I reluctantly opened my eyes, shielding them with my hand to avoid the sudden assault of the bright sun in my face. And there it was again. The movement. It felt like something or someone was watching me. I found myself getting though my aching bones protested and walked towards the spot where I saw something moved.

A very young child, about seven years of age, came up from behind me so softly that I did not hear any sound at all; the child held my hand. Reluctant to pull away my hand from him, he led me to a group of stone steps leading to the other side of the river. Once there, he sat down and indicated that I should down next to him.

Albeit the strangeness of the situation, I sighed and sat down. In a soft voice, but with the maturity of a wise man, he said “Trust in the Lord. All will be well”. He released my hand which he was still holding, he pointed to a healthy patch of green grass.

“My mother died, last year” he said. “My kindly aunt took me in, but she also died not too long after my mother. They are both at peace now. They are both buried there”.

It was then that I noticed two crosses standing on the ground. They were crudely made, the other one more so. Two broken, dirty pieces of dried leaves one with dead leaves hanging limply to it; they were both held by strips of rag.

“I prayed to the Lord to help me find someone who can help me make better crosses for them. He sent you”, he said.

For the second time that day, I was compelled by a force to do something I would, normally, not do. To extend a helping hand to someone who needs it. I swore to myself that never again would I allow myself to be hurt. Yet I felt that this child was telling me something. Something beyond my comprehension.

Not understanding why, I began looking for pieces of wood that I could fashion into better looking crosses.

I emerged from the woods into the clearing and worked furiously to make the crosses. I did not notice the setting sun, but I grew aware that the child was no longer there. I looked down at the crosses I held in my hand. They were shoddy looking but better than the ones on the ground. After pushing removing the old cross and pushing the new ones in, I began my search for the child. It was then that I heard those words again… “Trust in the Lord, all will be well”.

A simple truth spoken by a child. Simple words that carry so much meaning, so much love, so much hope.

My mind turned to the events that happened the night before – the sleeping pills I left on the night stand. My feet carried me in lightning speed – back to the church where that morning I asked for forgiveness for what I was about to do.

The End