PART 12

As I looked in this man’s fierce gaze I realized how much I admired him.

He had accepted his difficult childhood and looked upon it kindly in retrospect for how it had shaped him.

I wish I could have done the same with my carefree childhood. I knew I was like my Papa but how I wanted and craved to be more like my Mama.

She was so practical and efficient. So forceful in her grasp for life.

So much like this man.

Yet… this man thinks that I am brave?

“How can you consider me a brave woman? I am a dreamer and an artist. I am not brave to return to a childhood fancy. I feel as if I am weak and misdirected.”

He let go of my arms and his gaze was one of fondness.

“I was forced as a child to think like an adult. You had the freedom of being a child and as an adult you have the desire to return to that moment of freedom. There is nothing wrong in that.”

“I don’t understand what you are saying,” I fumbled with my robe and caught site of a worm slithering through the rocks at my feet.

“When I was young my desire was to see my mother smile. Everything I did I did to ease her burden. I was more than her son, I was her servant.” A peaceful smile spread across his soft lips. “She taught me  well how to handle myself in business. Since my dad died and I was the oldest son it was my responsibility to help her with my siblings and also help her provide a living.”

“That must have been difficult.”

“It wasn’t difficult because I didn’t have time to dream that it could be anything else. You had time to dream and nurtured that ability through your sketches.” He paused to wipe a stray hair out of line of vision. His hand caressed my cheek and lifted my chin so that I met his gaze.”I nurtured my ability to conduct business. I am envied for my business pursuits and yet I envy you because you can dream.”

“So you don’t consider my painting a waste of time?  I mean dreaming is not really living in reality,” I hesitated then confessed my fear. “My mother says my painting is a waste of time that no man wants to marry a dreamer.”

“Your mother is not a dreamer. She can not understand the reality of dreams  but they are a reality and one which God himself uses to impart wisdom.”

“So what do you want from me?”

“I want you to listen to me about an idea that I have. It is a business idea which is not in your realm of reality but I seek to build a bridge between your reality and mine.”

“I will listen but I will pray before I agree to anything.”

He sighed, his face melting  into contentment. “This then is of God. That is the exact answer I prayed that you would give me if this was of God.”

I don’t know if God is in the business of taking my breath away, or not, but it had left me again.