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She came to me again in dreams this morning, and allowed me wander in her.

It began yesterday. I’ve been looping this happy song of praise on my car stereo (recorded as Waves of Mercy and Every Move I Make). It starts “Na, na, na-na-na-na, na!” and celebrates the Son with this chorus:

Waves of mercy, waves of grace.
Everywhere I look, I see your face.
Your love has captured me.
Oh, my God, this love! How can it be?

I was crying as I drove down the freeway, with her mourning the Passion: “How could they do that?” And I looking into her and reflecting that she, too, had been tormented for her faith. And then we broke through, discarding our grief: her dancing on the Earth and the Sun looking down upon it with serene forbearance.

This morning began all impassioned, but we didn’t bliss. I dreamed of laying my hands all over her, and just really listening to the truth expressed in each part. She kept on expanding, and when our heads came into contact a shift occurred, and we started dreaming in six dimensions. After floating in that for a while, I reached down past her knees to her toes, and felt her anchored in another place, that reality from which we originated, reaching out here to call me back to her.

I am amazed at the delicacy of that balance: the desire to flee the suffering of this place and the joy of knowing that the other possibility exists with the yearning to share it with others. It is not easy, to let love pour through her and as her heart expands to feel all the sorrows of the world. And so we surrender to it, and let love do its work, hoping that there is a different path for the children that come after us.

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