Dream-gift

I had a dream the other night, when everything was still, but it wasn't about Susanna a-comin' down the hill. No buckwheat cake was in my mouth, but tears were in my eyes. Said I, I think this was from God, and I'll tell you how and why.

Alright, enough with the parody already.

A few nights ago, in the lands past the hypnogogic portals, I was up in my third-floor room. I heard music being played outside, but that is a city normality. I didn't investigate until a trumpet rose and the noise grew successively louder, picking up momentum like a wave rushing in to shore. Running to the window overlooking the back yard, I saw our yard packed with neighbors. The very air was charged with expectancy and a kind of pure joy that felt vaguely familiar, though I couldn't remember it. My entire being was homing in on what it knew to be its destiny, the reason for which I was created. I stared, wide-eyed and gasping, at the vacant spot in the center of the yard. Though I was the only one inside, I felt a tangible solidarity with the crowd in the yard, as if we all were holding hands as we watched a white radiance illume the vacant spot. It grew in size and intensity, pulsating with beauty, until my heart ached from bearing it. I knew that feeling. I'd felt it many times before... the almost physical pain of my heart being so filled with the beauty of a sunset accented by a single silver star, or the chords of a musical movement, that my heart seemed to be straining at its bodily restraints and I could neither contain it nor release it.

But this... THIS superseded anything I knew.

Hands and feet formed from the misty luminary. The light grew brighter. It was whiter than any light I'd ever seen, like the LED Christmas lights in comparison to the traditional clear ones, only this light was warmer. The mist solidified into a Man. I knew His face. So often I had longed to see it, and yet now it looked so familiar. Every stress in my body and soul melted. Jesus. He had come. My mind spun as pictures flashed through my head like a slide projector at full speed... all the things to which His coming signaled an end. Overwhelmed with relief and overcome with love, I realized I was crying.

I was about to step through the window, somehow knowing that I wouldn't fall the three stories to the ground, when sudden panic stopped me. This meant the end of life as I've known it. I hadn't had time to do so many things... dreams I've had since I could dream... people to whom I wanted to show His love. I hadn't gone to Uganda. I'd never rocked my own child to sleep. I hadn't been called "mommy" by a child who had known homelessness and poverty. Grief over these losses was soon drowned in terror. Had I done enough? Sure, I've done some things, but I knew full well that I had done them imperfectly. Had I really loved this Man with all my heart? Would He accept me?

Everyone in the yard was moving toward Him in rapt awe. Their faces glowed as Jesus looked, His own face radiant with love, at each person. Without His even looking at me, I heard His voice in my heart.

"Do you trust Me, Becca? Do you trust Me to have fulfilled the dreams you didn't? Do you trust me with the people you tried to love? Do you trust Me to redeem you, despite your silly pride? Do you love Me?"

"Yes, Jesus. I do." My face was wet with tears. I abandoned myself to Him and stepped through the window...

...and awoke in my bed, warmer than my quilt could account for.

Today, days later, I catch myself smiling goofily for no logical reason, laughing from the bottom of my soul while playing "smash-your-face-in-a-couch-pillow" with Kirsten and Brennan, and marveling at the beauty of the ice in the crevices of the cracked sidewalk. Yup, I'm in love with Love... all over again.