Most of our dreams, we cannot remember beyond just that few moments between being fully asleep and fully awake. Nighmares, however, can leave a lasting impression and can remain in our memories for a very long time. This nightmare I spoke about in this poem is just such a dream. I can recall in vivid detail the horrifying images and still feel the terror associated with them. I can also recall in just as vivid detail the feeling of comfort I had when Dad came to my bedside. As I was thinking about that scene a few years ago, the words of this poem came to me. I wrote it down as fast as I could write and here is the result.
My Father’s Hand
Written November 2000
I remember years ago, when I was just a child, I had a dream. It was a dream so scary that I screamed
out loud. It seemed so real. My heart was racing. As I looked up from where I sat in my bed, I saw
him standing there next to me.
I felt the comforting touch of my father’s hand.
A few years later, when I had grown just a bit. I was, once again, in fear. I had hit rock bottom. I was
feeling so desolate and all alone. I looked up from the mess that I was in and I saw Jesus waiting
there.
I felt the comforting touch of my Father’s hand.
Time has passed, and I have children of my own. They have known times of fear, not knowing what
to do. When I looked down at them looking up at me, I know what they we needing.
They felt the comforting touch of their father’s hand.
There will be times in their lives that I cannot be there with them. It is then that I pray they will be
aware of Him. I know He’ll be there. That’s what His word declares. My prayer is they’ll see Jesus
standing there. . .He’ll wipe away their tears.
They’ll know the comforting touch of their Father’s hand.