Parachute Prayer

We all have them.  The dreams that make you question if we just might be sleeping while our eyes are open and enter reality when our lids slide shut.  They leave an imprint on the clay of the mind and seem to materialize into an escaping shadow that lurks throughout the following day.

We were on a plane, my little brother and I.  We are separated by few years and tied by a shared rebellious soul.  The destination seemed unknown and the passengers around us in discomfort and worry.  Their brows furrowed and minds reeled for answers as they waited for reassurance from our captain.  My brother and I sat in a strange sense of peace only in the company of each other and one stranger sharing our row.  A tall mysterious man who returned our half smile.  We were poised; prepared.  But for what?  

The captain offered little hope over the speakers with a shaky yet apathetic tone and soon the drop of free fall swarmed our stomachs.  It was clear there would be no turbulence to blame.  I took my brothers hand as the floor opened beneath us.  We were going down.  My eyes closed as my lips released the beginning of my last attempt for rescue, "Dear Heavenly Father..."  My brother followed my lead and joined.  A prayer of forgiveness and hope found rhythm in the chopping wind surrounding us and a slow freedom filled our lungs.  

That's when it hit.  Not the awaiting ground but a hand on my wrist.  "Take hold!" were the instructions of the mysterious man we had seen next to us on the plane.  A rope dangled between us and dear life gripped it in our hands.  The fall began to slow as we looked up to find the welcomed shelter of fabric spread above us.  Light beamed through the heroic sheath as a humble piece of land became visible.  I looked to my little brother in disbelief; we were saved.  He gave me the same bright grin I have cherished since the birth of our memory together and simply said, "Amen."

My eyes parted abruptly to find that the dream was gone and only my room remained.  I pulled my pillow close and thanked God for the experience.  Though the small journey began as a nightmare, a city currently separates me from my little brother. Any visit is welcomed even if it has to be in slumber. I knew I had been given one of the best moments a sibling could ask for: the simple assurance that we just might make it out alive after all.

. . .