Handle With Care

With tears in her eyes, she pulled out of her purse a small spiderman sock rolled up and tied with a purple hair band. She explained that she always carries these two items around with her--they were all that she had left of her brother and sister.

Her precious siblings... She practically raise them till she was kicked out of the house. Now she can't even remember the last time she saw them. Do they even remember her?

As she sobbed out her grief, I was reminded of a famous poem by William Butler Yates. "But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams." She had given me the most precious thing she owned. This spiderman sock and purple hair band were her last connections to her siblings. I was holding her dreams.

It was a very special moment. I knew she had invited me onto holy ground. It was time to take my shoes off. I had nothing for her but to mourn with her, to grieve with her, to treasure her treasure. Surely I had been invited into the heart and the very presence of God in this young ladies life.

Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

William Butler Yeats