A First
It was the first time I saw Your
Arms outstretched, reaching for me, Father...
Not in wrath, not in judgment—
But with tenderness that undoes me.
Yet—You wore a black T-shirt,
And shorts.
Why?
Why that image in my dream?
Two moments, two glimpses,
Hauntingly serene... yet strange.
The morning greeted me with cold breath,
A whisper of August coming near.
It's wind said “Hallo”—
And slipped through my pajamas
Right into my soul.
I moved quickly,
My favourite chore calling:
Make the bed, set out the pillows,
Let them drink in morning light.
This is where I meet You.
In the ordinary.
Where I speak…
Or just listen.
But something was different today.
Something honest. Something raw.
I must leave at 8:40,
To draw money for the church.
Don't be lazy—
Letting small delays become
Unnecessary weight.
“What’s the real time?” I asked,
None of the clocks told the truth.
And sometimes… neither do we.
The ninth commandment.
It came like a chill.
You shall not bear false witness.
And suddenly—
My heart was on trial.
False stories,
False assumptions,
False smiles,
False silence…
Even false thoughts,
About brothers, about sisters.
About You.
That black shirt in the dream—
Was it You, Father?
Or was it a mirror?
Darkness I dressed myself in.
A symbol of a practice
That spins us downward:
Think.
Say.
Do.
Regret.
And still—
There You were.
Arms open.
You give us law, not as chains,
But as kindness.
To protect us.
From ourselves.
Because You know how we ache
Under the weight of our own words.
The echo of what we wish we hadn’t said.
Or thought.
I slipped away after service,
Still undone,
Just in time to catch another.
Still searching.
And there—
A hymn from the 1700s met me,
Old as time.
Heavy as truth.
The Cross.
Blood poured out
For every falsity.
Every twisting of truth.
Oh how wretched,
And yet—how wonderful
That You would pay it all.
And then,
In prayer,
In purpose,
In surrender…
I saw You again.
Arms outstretched.
This time—I stepped in.
You lifted me from fear,
From deceit, from the cold.
You wrapped my heart
In a warmth deeper than sunlight.
I became light again.
Small again.
Yours again.
Like a little girl—
Innocent.
Protected.
Free.
Now no wind of August,
No season of change,
No shifting of clocks or truths or thoughts—
Can chill me anymore.
Because I’ve seen You, Father.
And I’ve felt
Your outstretched arms
Pick me up.
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