A restless night.

Last night I woke up multiple times due to bizarre dreams. This isn't horribly abnormal for me to do, but the content of the dreams was anything but normal. I had multiple dreams of this one African child- one I've never met, or at least not one that I remember meeting. His name was JT. He was short, squishy, and had huge coffee bean eyes that could have seen deep into your soul. He was adorable in every way...well, to me. He had been abandoned when he was about 3 by a mother who simply wanted nothing to do with him. He had other siblings, but his mother had seen value in them and taken them with her when she left. JT was alone, scared, confused, and being abused daily by the people of his village. He had burns covering his face and his hands were mangled as a result of some kind of trauma. In the dream, I came across JT as I was walking through the village to a market. As I was walking by a saw a Gogo (grandma) beating him with a long branch and screaming at him. I stopped and immediately began to question what was going on. She answered " no one wants him. He has to leave." In my dream I remember vividly being filled with anger. I was absolutely disgusted and frightened at the same time- this was the first time I woke up. As I stared at the ceiling in my room I tried to talk myself out of that state of mind and eventually fell back asleep knowing that dream would be gone forever. It wasn't. It continued. I argued with the Gogo and pleaded for her to stop. Jt was bleeding all over but hadn't shed a tear. He was silent. He was used to this. Eventually I was able to convince the Gogo to let him come with me. She assured me that I wouldn't want him for long and that I would soon understand why everyone treated this boy in such a way. I scooped little JT up and headed for my home. Wherever that was, it wasn't ever clear in the dream. On the way home I tried to talk to JT but got no response. In fact, he wouldn't even look at me. As I carried him down the road he tested his beaten and bruised head on my shoulder and stated at the road behind me. At some point we arrived at our final destination where a large man was waiting for us. He immediately began to question where I had found this boy and was even more curious as to why I had wanted him. I tried to explain but all I could say was " I love him." As those words escaped my lips I felt the back of my t shirt get damp. I lifted JT from my shoulder and saw tears streaming down his face. The boy who had shown no emotion and refused to speak to me was now crying in my arms and had locked his beautiful brown eyes with mine. I couldn't give him to this man. He was mine. I had to plead with this man who clearly wanted no good for my boy to let me keep him. Eventually he gave in, because much like everyone else, he believed that JT wasn't worth the fight. I woke up again at this point, so relieved that I hadn't had to give my Jt over to this man. It felt real. My heart legitimately hurt even in my conscious state. Again, I stared at the ceiling and convinced myself that the dream was over. Jt was safe and I would have a solid three more hours of sleep before it was time to get up. Nope. As soon as I fell asleep JT and I were sitting around a fire just looking at each other. This time he was different though. He had no bumps or bruises. His hands weren't mangled. And his eyes...his eyes were different. There was a spark there. There was life. This time when I spoke to him he answered and when I asked him his name he answered, "JC." JC? I had thought this whole time his name was JT? And it was. You see, his name had changed. He used to be JT when he was used, abused and unwanted, but now, now after he had encountered love and someone who would fight for him he was JC. He was a new boy far different from the one I had seen on the doorstep of that Gogo's house. I woke up again. Unlike the other times I knew I wouldn't be able to fall back to sleep. So I just laid there thinking. What on earth was all of that? What did it mean? Did it mean anything? I couldn't help but imagine that little JT was me though. While I have the most loving family who would never treat me in such a way I still could relate to JT in a strange sense. I began to realize that I was just like him before I knew Jesus. Satan saw little value in me and did everything in his power to ensure that I felt useless and unloved. He used and abused me and made me feel like I had been abandoned. But then, I encountered Jesus and his love was transformative. I wasn't that same used up person I had believed I was. I was new. Totally new. All my bumps and bruises were gone because Jesus had stepped in front of that big man in my dream and said, "NO. This one is worth it. She is mine. I will fight for her." Even when that big man didn't see the value Jesus saw. At this I couldn't help but cry. I literally just laid in my bed and cried thankful tears because of what Jesus did for me through his life, death, and resurrection. So thankful that he said " this one is worth it" when he looked at me. But then I felt convicted. How many Jt 's do I know that still walk around believing the lies that satan and society tell them about their value? How many times have I not stepped in and said , " this is one is worth it" for someone who couldn't do it for themselves? Praise God there is grace for that, but wow. I cannot just be a passerby or someone who sees the injustice of the world taking place and doesn't step in. Jesus stepped in for me so I have no other choice but to do the same for others.