Yesterday in our weekly market.
There in front of me, he is suddenly standing.
We haven’t seen each other for a quarter of a century, and even back then as soldiers, we never shared many words. It wasn’t necessary.
It isn’t necessary. We just stand here face to face, eyes shining bright, hearts glowing with God’s love.
“How are you? How can I help you? Open your heart to me. I am your brother. How can I help you?”
Warm questions asked gently, with no curiosity or pressure, and no exchange of information ensuing; only words of divine trust and empowerment for our missions here on Earth, warm tears streaming down cold cheeks, and a long, tight heart-to-heart hug in the middle of this busy, for-a-while-noiseless street.
He reaches into his pocket, takes something out and slides it into mine.
“Oh, please now. See these nice vegetables here? We do have food on our table. Whatever you just…”
“It is not mine.”
“You have struggles of your own…”
“What was in my pocket did not belong to me. I knew. Christ told me this morning. I knew I would meet a brother. Everything will fall into place. You will see.”
Manolis, Μανώλης is his name. Diminutive of Εμμανουήλ, Emmanuel, “God is with us”.
Plutonia has been waiting in our old little car some streets away. She cannot walk without pains these days. “Here, my beautiful Love; this cauliflower head, fresh and white enough? And nice potatoes. And eggs. And lettuce and kale leaves and fresh green onions. And the kitchen tool that broke down last week, days after we bought it? How much did it cost? Et Voilà! From Heaven for us.”
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It’s not about the money or the food or the struggles, Loves. It’s not about anything of this world. Ever. It’s only about the Divine working through the visible, through us all, thanks to everything we go through.
Thank you for your presence here and in our hearts.
God bless us all.
Leon In Sacred Presence
Gratitude, Beloved Emmanuel:
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