Jesus in the Field

I didn't fall, crawl, kneel and get up, just to hide what my Father did for me. The ground was hard and it hurt, but pain met hope in the face of Jesus.

Little girl suppressed, I saw His face in a field. The yellow grasses swayed in the sun behind Him. Jesus kneeled to my height and His gaze held mine as He placed His warm palm on the crown of my head. 

No words, just eye to eye, speaking what He knew and had seen, offering more validation in a moment than in my lifetime. He understood.

How did I miss my growth? How could I not have heard my own voice or recognized the height from where I stood? Jesus had said to Suppression, “you are no more” but I must have called it back.

As He rose, so did I. Toe to toe and face to face, His feet planted with mine on the hard ground. The sun was soft and warm. He tilted my chin upward and that’s where freedom met blessing in the face of my Jesus. His daughter, a woman, I stood.

(I think suppression was off somewhere licking its wounds).

Written by,

Dee M. Kostelyk

8/1/2025