What the River Tells Us

I dip my hand in the river. The water continues its journey, unfazed by my presence. I try to scoop it up as if my hands were perfectly shaped. The sound of a branch breaking startles me. I turn around and find nothing. I dry my hand on my dress. Another footstep. I look up to a boy. He stared at me curiously. He stood on the other side, his hands in his pockets.

​

“What are you doing?” I asked.

​

His little green eyes stared back at me. I could tell he wanted to say something, but was unable to do it. He looked down at his feet and ran. I ran after him; he was faster than he looked. He turned behind to see me before darting even faster. I lost him; there were just too many trees. So many trees.

***

I wake up to my bedroom ceiling. These dreams constantly taunt me. Most times, they’re different people, but they always run, and I always find that patch of dirt. All are at different stages of life. All on a journey. Some are children, while others are adults or the elderly. I get on my knees and pray for guidance. Maybe some dreams just don’t mean anything, but if it doesn't mean anything, why do they keep coming back? I trust that there is a reason God is speaking to me in each of my dreams. I know each by name. Each time I ask a different question, as if it’s a hint to help me find them. So far, over the past five years, I haven’t been able to find them. It’s almost like they’ve never existed. Or maybe they haven’t been born yet.

***

Time passed, and life continued outside of those dreams, but I never forgot them. They continue to be on my heart. It was like I was supposed to tell them they’re not alone in this big, dangerous world.

***

One afternoon, I helped my sister unpack her stuff into her new apartment. Once we finished, she smiled at me.

“Thanks for helping me.”

“Of course.”

That’s when I heard her voice. I turned and found a girl walking on the sidewalk. Men spat at her and laughed. She took her fist and came out fighting. I recognized her. She cussed, then continued on. The men wouldn’t let up. They hollered and whistled. Crystie shook her head.

“That kid is bad news.”

“Why aren’t they leaving her alone?”

“She’s a slut, she wants that attention.”

Love one another, as I have loved you. I walked over to them, despite Crystie's urging me to leave it alone. Didn’t she understand this was a child?

​“You let her go right now, or I’ll call the cops.”

“Do it, they don’t care about women like her.”

Crystie came running over to me.

​“Come on, Angel, let’s go.”

​“No,” I stepped forward to the men.

​None of whom were intimidated. God, give me strength.

“Go, kid, go.”

She left and ran off. The men did nothing to stop her.

“What’s going on here?”

​My husband, Ned, came out, his fist full of anger.

​“Do we have a problem here, gentlemen?”

Ned was taller than they were, which was probably why they were intimidated.

​“No, sir.”

​They walked off.

​“Babe, what happened?”

​“They were picking on that poor girl.”

​“What girl?”

​“Her.”

​I nodded my head to the girl. She sat alone in an alleyway. Her face was red from tears. I left Ned’s arms and headed over to her.

​“Hi, I’m Angel. What’s your name?”

​“Jackie.”

​“Do you have any place to stay?”

​“No, my parents kicked me out.”

​“How come?”

​“I’m…I’m pregnant."

​“How old are you?”

​She sniffled and wiped her nose, “16.”

​Ned came over. I looked to him, to which he nodded in agreement.

“You can stay with us.”

​“Really?”

​“Of course.”

​I held up her chin, and I saw those scared little blue eyes. I took her under the arm, and we took her home. Soon or later, Jackie found relatives with whom she could stay until the baby was born. We never knew what happened to them, but I’m sure she never forgot us either.

​*** ​

Music and carnival lights bounced around us. Ned and I held our daughter’s hand. Kora smiled up at us. I tried to be part of the moment, but I couldn’t with the sinking feeling in my chest. My heart dropped. I started to search around. One of them had to be here.

​“Mommy! Look.”

​It was as if she knew about my dreams.

“What is it, baby?”

Take care of my sheep.

A little boy stood in the dark, fighting off a man who was stronger than him. His face was streaked with tears. People passed them and offered no help.

“Help!” He whimpered.

With all the noise in the air, it was no wonder nobody helped him. Ned followed our gaze and ran him over like a football player. The boy ran back into the crowd. The man continuously tried to plead his case.

“That’s my son! Someone go get my son.”

We maneuvered through the crowd. I picked up the boy and brought him over to security. Where the man was arrested. Turns out the man was his father, but had kidnapped his son from his ex-wife. It wasn’t a few hours later, Tommy was reunited back with his mom and stepdad.

***

I started to paint their faces. I guess as a way to tell them I’m looking for them. I painted them in a way they wouldn’t see themselves, but how God sees them. Kora, my little girl, is now a teenager. She tries to help me look, too. Sometimes it’s like she can see through the noise. Our search continued over the years, leading us to new encounters. New faces. More stories. I don’t ever remember their names, but I remember the smiles they brought with them. I remember their stories, but I think it’s weird that I can only think of a few names. Perhaps that just happens with the greys.

​***

It wasn’t until a couple of years later that we attended a showing for one of my pieces of work in New York. A woman came out. I recognized her right away. Ashley. She had her own artwork. Not many were coming to look at it. So I did. It was a painting of a bird, one with many colors. It was a broken bird. She sat on the bench, whispering a prayer in the light. I wasn’t sure what she was saying, for she was silent, but when she looked up, something overcame me.

​“Your artwork is magnificent.” I pressed my hand to my chest, “You will do great things, but don’t ever forget who made you.”

​

She burst into tears almost immediately.

​

“Thank you,” she looked up, “Thank you, God. My miracle worker.”

She had been looking for a sign from God.

***

It wasn’t until 8 years later that I saw Dustin. He stood on the side of the bridge. I could tell he was stressed out. He kept coming closer to the edge, then backing away.

“Ned, pull over.”

​He did. He knew what that meant. We came over to him, while others passed him. He hit his hands on the bridge. ​I am near the brokenhearted, and I save those who are crushed in spirit.

​“What’s wrong, son?” Ned asked him.

​“I want to die, sir.”

​I stepped closer to him. Love another as I have loved you.

​

“But we don’t want you to.”

​

“Nobody cares about me. I’m alone,” he said, sadly.

​

“We’re here. God is here.”

​

“God?”

​

“Stop running, Dustin.”

I looked into his brown eyes. God showed me him even all those years ago.

​“Nobody’s called me that name in a while.”

​“Dustin, the father is running after you, but he’s waiting for you to run back to him,” I spoke to him.

​“The father?”

“God wants you.”​

“I got no place to go, lady.”

“Come stay with us.”​

He looked up, tears upon his face. He shook his head.

“You are forgiven,” Ned began, “No matter what you’ve done, God forgives you.”

“Why would he do that?”

“He loves you, Dustin. He loves you so much that he sent his one and only son to die for you on the cross. You’re a free man, Dustin. You’re a free man.”

“Come with us, Dustin.”

“I’ve done a lot of bad things, man.”

“Didn’t you hear me? You are forgiven.”

​He walked away. He stayed with us for a while. He has a family now. Wife and kids.

***

We helped more and more people, even the ones who weren’t in my dreams. I realized that God was teaching me about His never-ending love and compassion for all His children. Each person proved that God was moving in our midst. No matter how lost or broken someone might feel, God’s love is constant; he never leaves us.

For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was unclothed and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me.

***

I closed my eyes. Death was upon me. I drew my last breath and opened my eyes to the light. I cried. Jesus was right here, right in front of me. His guidance has carried me thus far. There was never a moment, I turned and could not find him. I kneeled down to him.

​He kissed my head, “My good, faithful servant.”

​