“Daddy!” A loud voice screamed in the middle of the night, “Daddy!”. Quickly I jumped from my bed and ran to her bedside. A small child was lying there under her blanket and crying. I took her in my arms “Daddy, I had a dream.” She uttered while sobbing. I held her while attempting to speak words of comfort. “What did you dream about baby?” I asked. And here is where her story begins.

“I was alone”, she began, “there were others around me, but still I felt alone. I wandered around, doing what I wanted to do, acting like there were no rules, just living life any way I wanted.” “That doesn’t sound too bad does it?” I replied. “I know Daddy, but something still didn’t feel right. I lived by my own rules, but I still felt empty.”

“Where there others around you?” I asked. “Yes” she said. “And what were they doing?” “Nothing. They were just like me, just living.” “Daddy,” she continued. “Yes” I replied. “There was a man in my dream too.” She paused “People were being mean to him. They called him names and teased him. They even beat him. I felt bad for him Daddy.” She began to cry again. I sat there quietly on her bed allowing her to continue when she is ready. “He seemed nice Daddy. He was a teacher but the people didn’t want to learn. I should have told those people to leave him alone, but I didn’t,” she said shamefully. “I just watched. People gathered around like a big mob and they kept beating him Daddy. I wanted them to stop, but I didn’t know what to do. They made him carry big pieces of wood to the top of a hill, then,” her voice trailed off to silence. She looked up at me, her eyes full of tears “They put nails in his hands and feet, they pushed thorns in his head. I yelled for them to stop daddy, I did. I did yell for them to stop.” she sobbed, “but they didn’t listen. Then he looked at me, right at me and I heard him say something Daddy. His mouth didn’t move, but I heard him say something to me.” “What did he say baby?” I enquired. She looked at me innocently and whispered, “He said “For you”.

We sat there that evening on her bed holding one another. Bekah, my daughter, explained to me that this person in her dream was Jesus. I smiled as she taught me about Him. A scripture came to me as we sat there, Isaiah 11:6 “…and a little child will lead them.”

I learned that night that when she screamed out me, it was not out of fear, but out of love and excitement. She cried over the pain He suffered. She rejoiced over the acceptance of His love. On this night, truly a child did lead.

Isaac Costley