III.       Fifteen minutes later, she pulled into the church's empty parking lot, her car's engine coughing and dying as its tires gently bumped the curb. She noticed the church's front door was open and saw the manger scene in the front yard, reminding her of the Christmases that she had spent in Wyoming when she was a little girl and of her father, a stern man who did not tolerate her mother's drinking. Maybe, she thought as she looked at the building, I really do miss my father.
       Desperate for wisdom, Dara stumbled out of her car and slammed the door, walked to the church entrance, hesitated, thought of turning around, getting back into her car, and driving away when she felt her heart insisting that she stay and see the blind preacher.
       Standing now in the church doorway, looking down the hall, she saw an office to her right. The office door was open, papers rustling inside. Her heart in her mouth, she called out, "Pastor Ray? You in there? Pastor?"
       She waited, and the rustling stopped. Then a deep voice spoke:"Come in, sister. Been a while since I saw you and your mother." She was stunned that anyone in this city, let alone a preacher, would remember her at all. Over the years, and particularly since moving to Vegas, she had come to regard herself as not particularly significant.
       Dara moved down the hall, stopping outside the office. Seated behind a dark oaken desk, window shades pulled but the corner lamp on, was Pastor Ray, a tall thin man with thick graying hair. Though his eyes were closed, she immediately sensed that he was examining her soul.
       "You remember me?" she asked."It's been nearly three years. Must be an awful small congregation."
       "Not small, " said the preacher with a voice that penetrated her heart, "just intimate. Intimate. The Lord binds all his children to Him, and if I can help it I try to remember everyone He sends. Amen."He cleared his throat and smiled."'Though I do admit it's getting tougher with the years as I get older."
       Touched by the soft voice and warm smile, Dara relaxed
       "Dara, isn't it?" he asked.
       "Yes, that's it, " she softly spoke.
       "Something is upsetting you, " he said.
       "Yes, " she replied."Yeah, it's some dreams. I've been having them for a week."
       The Preacher nodded in silent encouragement.