Blog Introduction

This blog is the story of how my husband and I faced the illness and death of two of our children. Each blog post is essentially a chapter in the story, so in order to truly understand it, you are going to benefit by starting at the beginning.
I hope you find our story touching, and in some way find comfort and hope through it as you face your own storms in life.

Monday, May 14, 2012

The Last Dream- Are You Getting the Message?

The dream was precise and vivid, and I awoke from it remembering every detail.  The location was a deserted mall. As I rode the escalator from the second floor to the first, I saw a young couple sitting on a bench directly in front of me.  They held in their arms two babies, a boy and a girl.  I recall glancing at them briefly from the corner of my eyes as I descended onto the main floor, my head cocked away as if I really did not want to see them.  I proceeded to walk down the hallway toward the main part of the mall, but before I got fifty feet from the escalator, I suddenly found myself down on all fours; my fingers digging into the floor tiles as I was slowly, yet firmly dragged by an invisible force back toward the couple.  Hard ceramic tiles were uprooted and broken into pieces and ripped up by the force of my resistance.  I did not want to go back, so I fought with every ounce of strength I had.  But the invisible force was stronger, and the backward motion continued.  

            In the next moment, I saw myself standing behind the couple who were still seated on the bench with the two babies.  In front of them now stood another figure; it was Jesus. I watched as the mother gently cradled her baby; whispering words of love to her, nuzzling her downy soft hair, and breathing deeply of her baby scent.  Then she lifted the baby and handed her to Jesus.  As she did, I began to scream.  “No!  What are you doing? Are you crazy?” The words erupted from my mouth violently as I stood watching in horror.  “How can you give your baby away?!  What is wrong with you?!”  Feelings of fear, panic, and anger rose inside of me. I watched as the mother seemed to exhibit some remorse, and to my surprise, Jesus handed the baby back to her.  “Just a little longer,” the woman said.  Jesus smiled and nodded.  She caressed her little bundle a few minutes longer and then once again, more peacefully, handed the baby to Jesus. Then the dream ended. 

            I was wide awake.  This was more than a dream. It was a point blank message. Rob and I were the couple on the bench, and the babies were the ones we had lost nearly two decades earlier.  I was also the woman desperately clawing up floor tiles in an effort to not go back and revisit my past pain.

God could not have been clearer.  Forget any need to interpret hidden meanings; anyone who knew me could have interpreted this dream.  I was still holding on desperately to my babies, refusing to release them to God. The pain of the past had to be confronted, and I needed to surrender the babies to God. Holding on to them emotionally had not brought any form of comfort, truly; in fact, carrying a spirit of death all those years had actually caused me to stop living. Releasing them to God and receiving healing for my shattered heart was what I needed. Returning to the point in time where the trauma had been inflicted was the unremembered combination to my locker which I couldn't open in a previous dream.  It was the key to unlocking my chains to the past, which once opened, would release me from my dark cave of hidden pain, fear, and depression.  

With the upcoming women's retreat on the horizon, and the clear, nightly messages from God my road map, destination healing was but one step away.  But I had to be the one to actually take that one step. As the days neared for the retreat, I wondered whether I would actually be able to find the courage to take that scary first step, or if once again, fear would win.  With the disappointment and frustration of the last retreat still fresh in my memory, I was more determined than ever to push through no matter what.  I was tired of the devil playing with me; this would be the end.

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