BABUSHKA LULLABY

                "A wacko a day keeps the shrink in pay," stealth in his mind sung the words to Dr. Adams audible hum.  He raised left eyebrow, flipped to blank second page of new patient history.  Why had the young woman, sitting before him, refused to fill out the form?  "What a way to start a New York Monday," escaped his lips.  He leaned a tad back in seat, flipped back to page one, stared at the one and only blank filled in.  "I see you listed your name as Apple, no middle name, no last name, jussst Apple."

                "Yes!!!" From toes to nose, Apple's whole body vibrated answer.

                "Are you a one name celebrity?" Dr. Adams did not smile.

                "Oh, no sir," Apple shook head. "Just the messenger," she wide eyed nodded.

                Dr. Adams thought, "I'd like to shoot the messenger for not filling out this form!"  He could not just let it go, internally revenged, "This Apple got worms for brains."  He almost giggled past professional facade, but what he said was, "Messenger, in what way?"

                "Yes..." Apple's entire being danced in tune with the nod of her head, "yes, the messenger of dream, a reoccurring dream."

                "And in this dream?" Dr. Adams led, while mind inside sighed, "Not another dream!"

                "For three months now, in the dream I see myself sleeping, and in this sleep dreaming a dream... of insomnia.  I dream of rest... with no rest.  I dream of sleep... with no sleep.  I dream of you, Dr. Adams.  I dream of you, Dr. Alexsie from the Ukraine."

                As his diagnosis raced to obsessional delusion and probable schizophrenia, Dr. Adams brain screamed, "We should have checked her purse for sharp objects."  But his mouth carefully phrased, "And how do you know who I am and where I am from?"

                "By the dream within a dream of your insomnia, I see you in the Ukraine.  I see you as a child afore bed.  I see your Babushka rub her grandson's feet, sing sweet lullaby till he sleep.  And then I see your sleepless nights of now... how your thoughts have often been... if only I could... rewind the wind..."

                "But how did you know I changed my name, know of my insomnia... my Babushka?  Are you a psychic?" More than a tad of his inside shaking vibrated to the outside of Dr. Adams' skin.

                "No dark side here... only Jesus light... when you pray for answer... answer is God's delight..." Apple stretched arms, smiled sweet. "How many the times... have your times been... sleepless daydreams of often when..." As in the dream her arms drew to breast, cradled unseen child before her.  Her body rocked to old Ukraine Babushka lullaby... as Apple sang: "Dream O dream within the window.  Rock warm to sleep sweet child.  Sleep O sleep little sparrow so mild.  Rest and grasp the snow without the window..." From cradled arms Apple raised her eyes to Adam's...

                With tear in eye, the Doctor did reply, "And then, when she laid me down, when she tucked me in, my Babushka kissed my ear and whispered sweet breath so warm: 'All who rest... rest in Jesus...'"  And Dr. Adams relaxed for the first time in a very, very long time.

Find rest even unto your very soul... with Jesus... Matthew 11:28-30...