Once, I had a dream about God. He and I were sitting on a fencerow, watching the sunset.
“It’s beautiful,” I said. “Yes,” He agreed. “It is beautiful.” When I said it, it sounded cold and hollow. But when He said beautiful, it felt like the word came alive. “But I wish you could have seen it the way it use to be, the way I meant it to be,” God said. It looked like He was starting to cry. I could see the tears. “It was so beautiful then.” “What do we do, Lord?” I asked. “It’s so flawed now. So full of pain and evil.” “Oh Cole,” He said. “Don’t be afraid. All this won’t last forever. Someday, I’m coming back. We’re going to burn everything down and build it up. This world is going to be restored.” “But what do we do in the mean time?” I asked. “Fight for what you can, Cole. Because this world is worth fighting for…”
Ernest Hemingway | 
