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CHAPTER
XI
19. And now thou didst "stretch forth thy hand from above"[80] and didst draw
up my soul out of that profound darkness [of Manicheism] because my mother,
thy faithful one, wept to thee on my behalf more than mothers are accustomed
to weep for the bodily deaths of their children. For by the light of the faith
and spirit which she received from thee, she saw that I was dead. And thou didst
hear her, O Lord, thou didst hear her and despised not her tears when, pouring
down, they watered the earth under her eyes in every place where she prayed.
Thou didst truly hear her.
For what other source was there for that dream by which thou didst console her,
so that she permitted me to live with her, to have my meals in the same house
at the table which she had begun to avoid, even while she hated and detested
the blasphemies of my error? In her dream she saw herself standing on a sort
of wooden rule, and saw a bright youth approaching her, joyous and smiling at
her, while she was grieving and bowed down with sorrow. But when he inquired
of her the cause of her sorrow and daily weeping (not to learn from her, but
to teach her, as is customary in visions), and when she answered that it was
my soul's doom she was lamenting, he bade her rest content and told her to look
and see that where she was there I was also. And when she looked she saw me
standing near her on the same rule.
Whence came this vision unless it was that thy ears were inclined toward her
heart? O thou Omnipotent Good, thou carest for every one of us as if thou didst
care for him only, and so for all as if they were but one!
20. And what was the reason for this also, that, when she told me of this vision,
and I tried to put this construction on it: "that she should not despair of
being someday what I was," she replied immediately, without hesitation, "No;
for it was not told me that `where he is, there you shall be' but `where you
are, there he will be'"? I confess my remembrance of this to thee, O Lord, as
far as I can recall it--and I have often mentioned it. Thy answer, given through
my watchful mother, in the fact that she was not disturbed by the plausibility
of my false interpretation but saw immediately what should have been seen--and
which I certainly had not seen until she spoke--this answer moved me more deeply
than the dream itself. Still, by that dream, the joy that was to come to that
pious woman so long after was predicted long before, as a consolation for her
present anguish.
Nearly nine years passed in which I wallowed in the mud of that deep pit and
in the darkness of falsehood, striving often to rise, but being all the more
heavily dashed down. But all that time this chaste, pious, and sober widow--such
as thou dost love--was now more buoyed up with hope, though no less zealous
in her weeping and mourning; and she did not cease to bewail my case before
thee, in all the hours of her supplication. Her prayers entered thy presence,
and yet thou didst allow me still to tumble and toss around in that darkness.
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