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I
have served as the pastoral counselor at a local church the past three months,
and at other locations for the thirty years which preceded my tenure there.
When
I began counseling here, Pastor P. gave me a key to the front door and a
security code for the code box. Apparently, my weekly visitation with that
little plastic piece of equipment on the lobby wall has made quite an
impression on me.
For
you see, as I was napping tonight, (my nightly sojourns are confined to a
couple of two hour naps, rather than the standard method of sleeping), I
dreamed a dream.
I
found myself taking the church key out of my pocket, inserting it into the
lock, turning the key, walking across the threshold into the lobby, making my
way to the code box, and punching in the four digit code.
Suddenly,
I found myself in an entirely different location. The room where security codes
live. (I kid you not). I found myself seated on, for lack of a more suitable
moniker, a wheel less air bicycle lazily floating around what seemed to be a
huge tent; buoyed up by swirling jets of air beneath me. And then I realized
the steel framework of the air cycle was shaped exactly like my four digit
security code!
And
is it any wonder I enjoyed the ride. For those four little numbers literally
serve as my personal gateway to making a difference in the lives of some mighty
precious people.
I
will never think of the mundane task of punching in my security code quite the
same way again.
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