River Jordan

prologue d I remember exactly how long and dark the nights were for me when I was in prison, and I also remember how I used to try to lie real still and keep my eyes closed, so that sooner or latero usually lateroI would be able to fall into a bit of sleep. But there was one particular night when sleep didnit come. My parole hearing was only a few weeks away, and it was all I could think about. Lately, Iid become even more aware of the night sounds and the night silences, and I wondered what it would be like to sleep once again in a regular bed in a regular house and not hear keys jingling or the sad yelping of someone having a nightmare a few cells away. Not hear one woman call another womanis name in the dark. I knew all the phantom sounds, as wellothe ones that werenit real. Like hearing my cell door opening and some silent voice telling me that I could go. Be free. I knew for sure that was just a being-in-prison dream. And when I heard my sweet mamais voice, I knew it was just another homesick-dream. But when I heard a manis voice that long, dark nightoand it so close that he had to be right there in the cell with meoI couldnit figure out what kind of a dream that could be! And why on earth would I dream something like that at all? I certainly wasnit interested in any man, not after what Iid gone through with Earlie. And while I was trying to think what kind of a dream sound it was, I heard it again. iPansy'i Who on earth could that be? I was thinking. And just then, I heard Lizzie, in the cell next to mine, snorting as she turned over in her sleep. iPansy? Pansy Jordan'i iWho is it'i I whispered. iWhutchu want? Whutchu doing in here? And howid you get in here at all'i iPansy? Who you talking to'i Lizzieis sleepy, scratchy voice. But I didnit answer her. All I could think about was that if there really was a man in my cell, I might not get paroled, because nobody would believe that I didnit invite him in! Didnit break all the rules just to have him there. But how could any man get into my cell anyway? Even if I wanted him there, which I certainly did not! iWhutchu want? Who are you'i I whispered again, this time with what I hoped sounded like a growl in my voice. iThis is Jesus speaking to you.i Why, I was never so surprised in all my life! That voice was deep and sweet, and the breath that came drifting across my cell had a fragrance to it, like the perfume of blooming tea-olive and something elseoorange blossoms, maybe. And honeysuckle, the way its aroma is sizzled out on a hot summer noontime. All so sweet a perfume that I thought I might just faint from the beauty of breathing it! iWhutchu say'i iPansy? Who you talking to'i Lizzie called. iNobody. Shut up, Lizzie!i And I listened again for the voice. Listened so hard that my ears seemed to grow, reach out for the sound. iPansy, this is Jesus.i iGo on with you!i I whispered. iYou think Iim some fool whoid believe that'i I waited, with my heart hammering in my ears, and when I couldnit stand it any longer, I sat up and craned my neck to look all around the dark cell. A soft, wavering glow appeared in the far corner. A corner where no light should be. And while I watched, a hand appeared in the glow. A soft, bloodless hand with a nail hole in the very center of the palm. Maybe it was just a dream. Or maybe it really was Jesus. And then, all at once, I got things figured out. I laughedoa short, nervous laugh. iOh! Itis probably Lizzie youire looking for,i I said simply. iSheis right next door. Youive just come visiting the wrong cell.i Because everyone knew about Lizzie and her ipersonal Savior.i So what would be so strange about Him coming to see her, in person? Lizzie talked to Jesus all the time, and she even said that sometimes, He talked right back to her. Maybe He was just visiting with her. Sure would take morTrobaugh, Augusta is the author of 'River Jordan' with ISBN 9780525947554 and ISBN 0525947558.