It's late and I should be in bed.
The wind's blowing fiercely outside and our poor, sensitive Springer, Jamaica, can't quite figure out why I'm NOT there. She trots down the hall to the bedroom, then comes back to check on me. Trots back, and repeats. It's unnerving to her that I'm sitting out here alone, with such bluster outside and such quiet within. Yep, here she comes again.
So I should walk down the hall and put her out of her misery.
But there's something I wanted to write tonight:
God's been showing up in my dreams lately. I'm not talking about Samuel or Joseph or Joseph kind of dreams, where He speaks loudly and clearly and I know it's Him and I know exactly what I'm supposed to do. Nevertheless, about six weeks ago, I began dreaming about people who have populated my life in large and small and unexpected ways. The dreams themselves weren't significant. What mattered was that when I awakened, I remembered the person. All day long, that person stayed with me. The next day, a new dream and a different person. Now I'm not the sharpest knife in the drawer but even someone as dull as I can be caught on by about the third day. I told Beve about it, and he began to ask me who the person of the day way. I began to write their name in my journal.
As I said, this has gone on for six weeks or so now. Long enough that I am ready each morning for whoever God might bring to me through my dreams. An old friend from high school who is now a French professor, my third grade teacher, Beve's mother's best friend, a woman I knew in Holland, a former associate pastor, a cousin. Well, you get the idea. The list is six weeks long. Just to be clear, it hasn't been every day. Those first few days after my surgery I didn't dream about anything. Didn't do much praying, either, to tell the truth. They passed in a haze. I looked back at the post I wrote about the hospital and I can hardly remember it. That's what pain and stress does, I think.
Still, for the most part, God has set me to praying for this season. And it's been pretty cool. And then came this morning. I was awakened to my phone vibrating. (I should say, I was awakened the second time. I woke up with Beve this morning, and Beve beats the roosters more days than not. He did this morning, that's for sure. He was out the door before 5 AM. But then, it's been that kind of week. The most stress there is in his job the earlier he gets up. And this week, he broke some records. Broke a couple going to bed, too, I have to admit. He nodded off while in the middle of a conversation as we were eating dinner the other night, too. "Go to bed," I said. I felt like his mother. My point is that it's rare that I do more than breathe when he gets out of bed each morning. Today we had a conversation I actually remember!)
Then I went back to sleep. When I awakened three hours later to my phone vibrating, it took me a couple of seconds to realize what was making that noise. Long enough to register who I'd been dreaming about, though. Then I picked up my phone, looked at the text, and it was from the very person who'd just been in my dream.
That's what I call God showing up.
Here I am, stuck in my house for these three months, almost like I'm quarantined, living a life of restrictions, and HE shows up. Says, "You aren't on vacation, you know." He has purpose and ministry and use for me. Even when all I can do is sit in my chair.
If this is true for me, I KNOW it's true for all of you as well.
On a completely unrelated note, here's a picture of E for your weekend. I wanted to give you a clue as to what we're really on about up here in the Northwest. I don't wish to besmear the New Orleans Saints, but...Go Hawks!