"Can you feel it in the air. . . I am coming."

There is a sudden stench in the air, a sudden putrid smell that hits every sense, overpowering, threatening to overwhelm. I am dizzy, it is hard to think, there is fear, there is evil. I am sinking into the abyss and clawing at the sinking sand. . . feverishly clawing. My breath is quickening, my hands are sweating, my heart is racing. It is hard to breath in the presence of evil. I am suddenly ill and I know I may need to find a washroom, I look around where is it coming from???

Daughter of mine come back to me. Daughter of mine I am here. Daughter of mine this is My house, He will not cross the threshold. Fresh air suddenly fills my nostrils, the air begins to clear, my eyes begin to see, my nose can smell the fragrant perfume, my heart begins to slow, I am rising.

Words scrawled on a doodle card, "we are here with you, you are safe here, you are safe."

Then the sound of Your voice in the distance, "do you hear Me, I am coming for you. Do you feel it in the air. . . I am coming for all of you, I will not leave anyone behind."

My heart quickens to a song, my voice quavers with excitement but I try to sing, He is coming for us to take us to the place that is our homeland.

Then the stirrings of a new longing, a new need, a new hope. Can you give us one more moment, give our heart more strength to look behind, give our legs more strength to stand, give our hands the ability to reach and grab hold of one more hand. . . one more child's grasp, one more mother's lost child, one more desperate hand that is clawing out of their abyss of evil? Can you give us clearer eyes to see, to see the hands and hearts desperate for their healing, their relief, their need? Can you help us to look to the child beside us, beyond the polite smile and see it doesn't reach their eyes, and reach over and grab their hand and say. "you are safe here, we are with you, He won't leave you behind."

Give us the grace of one more moment where we stop to listen to Your voice, don't let us us miss the one voice that then has to cry in that horrible suffocating loneliness "what about me, do I not count? Did you not see me crying into my pain?"

I can feel it. . . You are coming. . . help me grab one more hand to bring them too.