Tuesday, August 9

i had one of those dreams you

don't ever want to awaken from
i had one of those dreams you

don't ever want to awaken from. I was, say

28 yrs. old. lithe and willowy and dressed in

wrinkled linen. a flower pinned in my hair.

a large room. somewhere in the south. packed

crowd who had hired my father to be their pastor.

that frightened me because he was so human.

so...i smiled. radiantly. holding a beautiful, frizzy-

haired little girl that we, as a family, had adopted...and

adored. love rained down. and i felt ebbulliant. captured

with joy. of course, my father had not spoken yet.

george clooney was even in the dream. eyes focused

on me. flirting. obviously, a fantasy. i haven't ever...even...

dreamed of a movie star. nor has one, i'm positive,

ever dreamed of me.

the sun slid into my bedroom.

spilling the reality that night was done.

over. and i awakened to reality. i am no

longer young. my children are 22, 23, 26, 27.

my hair has to be high-lighted. often, i am yanking

little white hairs from their roots.

the most beautiful, shivering joy that remains

unmarred is my pure passion for Jesus...and my

sons. every day, i search for opportunities to speak

the name of Jesus. so much POWER in just saying

His Name. and my children? i am the

richest lady on earth because i get to be the mother

of taylor, brock, colson, and brandt. we have had

so many hardships that not even silly contradictions

among us quiver with the raw, tight, coarse rope of love

that binds us. uh-huh!!! when one of my sons calls, and

i am on my way out the door. arms loaded with stuff, and

lots to get done. i stop. drop everything to the floor.

plop down. and listen. silently praying for God to guide

me in advising them. God's given us so MANY answers

and promises in those moments.

if you are younger than 55 yrs. of age,

listen to those who have walked much farther

down the road. shhhh. listen. hear the rushing

water of lessons learned. let the roar of trouble

lead you to those who have lived long enough

to know the ways of God. roar, waters, roar. then...

quiet us so we can hear and see and brush the

troubles far enough beyond us that the

music becomes a choir.

please forgive this blog.

i typed an original story of hope,

and realized that only the first few lines

were all that took hold. everything else was gone. disappeared.

don't let magnificent dreams

excuse you from the adventures

that can only be learned by the laid out

footprints of rugged, holy living. remember,

dreams can only live if they first die. and

sunrises come when we finally lay down our

sorrows, and keep our faces turned skyward.

Jesus lives. Jesus lives.

hallelujah, He reigns.