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.