The Messenger

I swore that I would never forget but over time

the rhythm and rhyme

twist and turn

my memories blurred then burn

with doubt

and cast about

for other possibilities.

That time most dire

lost and charred, on fire

frightened of future, yes so afraid

of the mess it all made

years of hopes, and all the dreams

crumbled, now not what it seemed.

All that I'd worked and tried

career crushed flat, it died.

I sat weighted with responsibilities.

Overdrawn accounts

I sit to plead, my pitch announce

overdrawn- I'm at the bank

thoughts sometimes racing and then blank

prepared to beg for leniency and mercy

then what did I see, there, sitting across from me-

but a stranger leaning into view with a questioning look.

He said, of all things "Sister of God,

place your heavy burden down", with a nod

in my direction,

I closed my eyes for self protection

In the moment my most miserable

and wishing that I could be invisible

while wondering when I would be called to review my account.

"Don't you think He knows your fear?"

he said, quietly-although not moving near

"He knows the worries that you carry."

I met his gaze, wide-eyed and wary,

explained that I was already Christian,

had to prepare, no time to listen.

My job was gone, my thoughts were scrambled, I had so much to do.

"Sister of God, let Him hold you, take your worry

His time is perfect, there's no hurry

This is not yours to bear alone."

The message was things that I've long known

Recent situations, though, had been so painful,

that truth from strangers felt disdainful.

My name was called; I walked to the manager without a backward glance.

"My job's eliminated, I'm overdrawn-

I'm applying everywhere from dusk to dawn...'

She cut me off: 'I see that here,

We'll credit the fees, the situation's clear.'

Two minutes later, still in a haze

I left the building in a foggy daze

Casting about outside the bank

seeking that stranger, just to thank

him for his kindness and his words

that reached and filled my parched reserves

got into the car and asked my husband where the man went.

My husband assumed the worst, I was still and pale

as I looked about with no avail.

What messenger? What man? He did not see

anyone leave the place but me.

No one entered, he'd forswear-

the whole time he waited? No one else there.

No passerby, preacher, or rabbi followed me into that bank.

Fifteen years later I still can feel

the confusion, despair of the whole ordeal.

The terror of going on without

I was on the edge, of that there's no doubt-

What's worse to think? What's more shameful?

That he was crazy or an angel?

A message of grace sent to me- I am loved and not alone.