Unexpected Morning

As I took my morning walk through the dew of time, carrying my tattered blanket and memoirs of damaged memories. The splendid cool breeze on my face with a hint of compassion felt so refreshing.

My common friends that accompanied me daily were eviction, loneliness, stirred by depression, carrying hopelessness, and holding my hand was rejection. My insanity was slowly trying to creep in but I gave it no access.

I just wanted to be loved and respected. I searched through my usual banquet of choices in the heap of what others called garbage. This was the survival of the fittest, and I was not about to lose to the rabbit in this race.

I saw what looked like a little black book, that someone apparently tossed carelessly into my midnight buffet. I picked it up and brushed off the remains of food residue. I opened it, and the pages were so crisp that the words seem to fall off the pages and drown in my hands. The words looked so old it must have been carried through the centuries. As I tried to read it, it seemed to come to life translating itself one syllable at a time.

The stories were so intriguing and believable they just had to be real. I could not put the book down. The more I read, the more I got drawn in by the characters and their lives. My breath was hanging on each moment. The book as far as I was concerned was alive. It was almost like it chose me and waited for me to come by. As I did what the words were saying I got free from all the day-to-day baggage I had been struggling with. I was no longer bound by empty promises. The unforgiveness that was entangled around my heart was released. The chains of my turmoil fell off emotionally link by link. The change from within was of a supernatural origin.

The next morning peace was my new best friend. I went back with a brand new hope and purpose and a pep in my step. I was truly thankful for my new life. I tried to stroll past the garbage but it beckoned me to look inside. As I looked inside, laying on top of my next meal was a newspaper. The newspaper read, "Priceless little black book stolen from the museum, reward $20,000." I could not break my gaze from the article in the column. The little black book was written in Aramaic language. I said to myself, "How was I able to understand a book in another language?"

I learned God works in mysterious ways. He will get your attention at the times you need him in the most peculiar ways. I gave the little black book back to the museum and collected the $20,000 reward. The money was a blessing to receive because now I can help others in the same situation I was in. The little black book was valuable to the museum but the ancient message was priceless to me. I'm sure you're questioning, "What was the little black book?" It's the number one seller in America and I will just keep it at that. (laughing and winks)