A Story, Listening When He Speaks

Some don’t like to talk of it. Nor do they write of it. Some feel it is tabu. Or maybe it is a premonition. So what? So what? 

We, especially the creative types, have active imaginations. Well, don’t we all have imaginations? I mean, perhaps it is only a fraction of the human race that really listen to our imagination as it beats in our hearts, and not only in our minds?

Has this girl gone off the deep end? It is morning, officially. But, it is still dark outside. Maybe I have gone off the deep end and right into the vat of swishing water. Or maybe cleansing water is where I landed. For some time though, it has felt like drowning water.

What am I rambling about? What is falling out of my heart and clunking from my mind, simultaneously? Quite frankly, being put into the ground.

Yesterday afternoon I was hit upside the head with a severe, I mean buckle your knees and toss your cookies bad, headache. I used to suffer from migraines as a youngster. I carried those pains into my young adult years. Ugh. Okay, so fifteen hours ago my head dove under a truck, at least that is what I felt. Not all, but most what I did was think on was my childhood friend who died a couple years ago. Had a severe headache. Took a nap. Brain had a rupture. She died. Her girl, mamma-less. Her husband, wife-less. Her folks, middle child-less. Her friends, her cousins, her nieces, her nephews, her co-workers, her neighbors…one less.

Finally I went to bed. My husband and son fell asleep sprawled together atop the big bed. They gave in while I fought the pain. And the tiredness. If I stay awake and don’t succumb to the weariness… Finally, not wanting to disturb the sleeping boys, I covered them and turned off lights. I crawled onto the little one’s bed, hugged his stuffed bear (Mamma Bear), filled my nose with his pillow scent, and pulled up a blanket. I wanted to rush into my room and get between my boys, wrap them in blankets and hugs and kisses. But, I did not. I fell asleep. I dreamt. That I had died.

Now, what does a person say after admitting such a thing? Dunno. Never been right here before.

I woke up. I wondered if I was gone. I took a good, long time putting my hand before my face. Yep, it was there. I took even longer to pull up from the pillow. Yep, no one was still there. You know, like in the movies. I was not looking at me.

Things raced through my head. Some sped by like roadsters, zoom. Here, there, gone. Some trudged like slugs, sticky and slow. Leaving a trail everywhere…

What would others say, think, do? Would my boys be okay? Would others give pity? I despise pity, by the way. Who would be my mamma’s best friend? Would she cry too much? Who would teach my son? What curriculum would they use? My husband, oh my friend. His love runs deep & pure & solid, all the way to his hidden, little boy grin. Is any of this about me? My mist, did it touch anyone? Did it lead them to Christ? Why didn’t I do more? Speak up more about my Lord? Share His Freedom with others? Talk bold about my faith? Would those here, ever know. (My passwords and places I go are a mystery or at least a tangled web at best. One blog buddy lives near my sis, so she would know.) What music? What photos? What tears–sad, thankful, loving, missing, regretting, painful, rejoicing?

Last night, in between waves of pain (and a wandering mind), I held my little one close and asked him, “Who loves you the most?” God, you, daddy. “If something ever happens and one of us is gone, where will we be?” In Heaven with Jesus. “Will we all be okay?” Yes. “Who lives in your heart?” Jesus. “What is the most important thing in the world?” God, mamma. God.

How is it that I make sure his little heart is right and he knows the important things, while waste time and worry about the trivial?

Two times my life was supernaturally spared. Two times. Two times God saw fit to give me enough time to find Him. Oh, praise God I didn’t perish before asking Him to be my Lord! Well, my sister and I did baptize each other in my bedroom as youngsters. I had read about it so we sprinkled each other out of a bathroom cup. Would that have kept me from the gnashing fangs of hell? Dunno. 

My brain works like this… yes, everything is for a reason. God knows all. It will be revealed one day. One glorious day. 

I try to… skip ahead a page or two. Even a sentence. I just wanna know. What should I do? What should I have done?

Since finding the Lord: my patience has increased exponentially; I am not a neat-freak, stuff doesn’t matter, people do; I take time to give, to love, to share, to encourage, to help; I try to be who He wants me to be, not who I want me to be; and on and on.  

Has this girl gone off the deep end? It is morning, officially. And the darkness is replaced by light outside. Maybe I have gone off the deep end and right into the vat of swishing water–no, I think not. Or maybe cleansing water is where I landed–yes, I think so. Gotta go for now. I know of a spot between my fellas where I can snuggle in and feel their warmth. Kiss their cheeks. Share pillows and blankets. 

And splash ourselves in waves of His forever love.


3 thoughts on “Dreamt”

  1. I know those migraines…Thank God they have led to a response of counting our days, so that we may present to Him a heart of wisdom.Sleep well, rest well.

  2. D, I needed this this morning. I am a driver in terms of my personality. I set a goal and I then set out to achieve it. I need to slow down. I need to put me and I and all of Claire aside and start living for others. Thank you for gently reminding me. Thank you for sharing your heart this morning. Thank you for being vulnerable and scared and open and questioning. Thank you for thinking out loud. I could give my ideas and my biblical understandings. But somewhere as dawn was breaking, I think God calmed the storm Himself, as He always does.

  3. Could it be that the dream was a little God-prompt, that would cause you to hold your hand in front of your face …sit again with your child …ponder the blessing …and to be reminded of how it all ends, how it all begins again?I don't know what your dream did for you — but I know what it has already done for me. It has done all those things.I'm thankful you shared.

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