I wasn’t quite asleep but I also wasn’t quite awake. It wasn’t quite real, but it also doesn’t seem right to call it fake. Like a story that had already been written or like a tale that had already been told, it flashed into my mind in the briefest of moments.
In what must have been some kind of a waking dream, I saw myself lying in bed when an angelic envoy roused me with a message. And as surely as Mary knew, as surely as Joseph knew, as surely as Zechariah knew, in my dream I knew—I knew the messenger was reliable and his message authentic. “God sent me to tell you that Christ will return in exactly one hour.” My heart rose. My mind reeled. My feet raced. Leaping from bed, I ran downstairs, grabbed my coat and keys, and sprinted out the door. I knew exactly where I needed to be.
One scene faded into the next, and I saw myself arriving at Glen Oaks Cemetery. There is no place on earth I like to go less but need to go more. There is no place on earth where I feel greater hope or
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