I’ll take a brief break from cancer talk and return to the original purpose of this blog: my two books and my Roma. I have cherished this little story for years, but never wrote it down. It is as fresh in my memory as it was when it happened seven or eight years ago. I want to document as many memories as I can to save them for my family and friends.
Before we moved to the lake full-time, I often attended a house church that gathered in a beautiful new barn perched on the crest of a hill in our rural community. Many acres isolated the house and barn. One Saturday evening, our pastor hosted a few visiting ministers from Africa. That was the night I bonded with my forever friend and special brother in Christ, Yakubu, originally from Nigeria, but living and serving in Baltimore. We talked a little that evening, and many times since. The night was already blessed before the vision.
After Yakubu and the other visitors shared messages, we sat quietly, listening to soaking music and meditating on God. As I sat in the barn with my eyes closed and my heart open to receive Him, something began to happen. It might have lasted only a few seconds, but it was real. I kept my eyes closed, but my surroundings were changing in my imagination. I was determined not to lead the coming vision, but to go where it led me. The sun was setting, and suddenly the roof of the barn opened to the red-orange sky. Then the barn was gone, and I sat alone on the hillside where it had been.
A short distance away, I noticed movement on the horizon. The sunset was behind them, so all I saw was the dark silhouettes of two men approaching me. Curious, I watched them come closer, thinking they were so similar in build and size. I’m not sure why I noticed that, but I did. Finally, they stopped in front of me. Their faces were in shadow, the orange glow from the sunset resting on them.
Roma was on the left. I stared at him, fearing the vision would vanish. He didn’t say a word, but he was giddy with joy. My heart heard his silent words. “Mom, can you believe who I get to hang out with?” I looked at his face, so close, so real. So happy. Then I looked at his companion to his right. It was Jesus. Again, no words were spoken, but Jesus’s face comforted and even amused me. It was as if He was saying, “Yes, Roma delights and amuses me too.
That quick vision is as clear and real to me now as it was that night at the barn. I have cherished it over these past years.
Roma is with Jesus. He is safe. And he is as real as he ever was.
