It started with a dream

It started with a dream

Toeing the line of consciousness, I kept my eyes closed tight, trying unsuccessfully to fall back asleep. I wanted to make sense of the dreamy images that, though vivid and clear just a moment before, were now quickly fading. The dog we adopted one week ago was there, along with a friend I’ve not seen in years. I don’t know where “there” was or why these two unrelated images filled my head, but I wanted to. After several minutes, though, it was clear: My efforts to re-enter dream-world were futile. But I soon discovered that my attempt to stop thinking of this old friend was equally futile, so I remained in bed, curiously ensnared by a seemingly random memory from time spent together nearly twenty years ago…

 

Maybe it’s more than a memory

My friend opened the door to her sleeping son’s bedroom, motioning me to follow as she walked towards his crib. The dim glow from a night light lit my path as a sound machine camouflaged the noise from downstairs. I don’t remember what my friend wanted to show me, but I do recall my concern that we would wake her son. My friend, however, was completely unconcerned–a detail that now begs for my attention. She knew her son would remain asleep, or that if he stirred, he would fall back asleep easily. As I relived this memory decades later God slowly brought to light the parallel I was unable to see at the time–for just as my friend knew the sleeping pattern of her son intimately, so, too, does God know the details of all I do. And as my friend stood by her sleeping son, watching him though he was unaware of her presence, God also watches over me, even when I am unable to sense His presence. And as these truths filled me, I felt it: the familiar warmth and peace that always comes when I rest in my Father’s Love. 

 

A message meant to share

Several hours passed, and this memory again ran through my mind. I found myself filled with gratitude, humbled not only by God’s continuous desire for me to experience His love, but also the personal way in which He helps me do so. I also considered that this memory–and His message–may not be just for me. Was it possible God wanted me to share it with my friend, even though we'd had little interaction for nearly twenty years? Before losing my nerve, I picked up my phone and texted my friend. My text was short, written not for a response, but to share that she’d been on my mind. To let her know how God had used a memory from our past, a detail of her motherhood, to speak to me now about the intimacy of His love. And to suggest that perhaps God wanted her to know the very same thing about His love for her. 

The gratitude in my friend’s response assured me that texting her was the right thing to do, but I’m sad to say I haven’t always followed through on these Holy Spirit promptings. At times I’ve allowed distance between myself and another to stop me from reaching out. I've also allowed worry over what others might think when they receive a random “Jesus text” from me to stop me from hitting send. But sitting here now, resting in the peace of my Father’s Love and humbled that He considers me a worthy messenger, I wonder: What would the world look like if we all paid attention to these nudges from the Holy Spirit and then courageously reached out despite fear of what another might think?

And I’m still wondering what the dog had to do with any of this…

Praying, as always, that the Lord breathes life into these words. 

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