“‘In the last days, God says, I will pour out my Spirit on all people. Your sons and daughters will prophesy, your young men will see visions, your old men will dream dreams. “(Acts 2:17)
Everywhere, piles of clothes – in the entry hall, in the bedrooms – everywhere little piles needing to be picked up, organized, cleaned.
Bending over, I grabbed up one pile. It stopped me cold. I stood, then bent closer. A bird’s nest, with 3 robin’s blue eggs just sat there, revealed in the uncovering.
I moved to another pile, one by the door, picked up the laundry – and a baby bird scuttled out of the nest, curving around me, twiggy legs and feet scampering out the opened front door.
Every pile revealed a bird’s nest, filled with eggs or chicks.
I hadn’t dreamed in a long time – but that night I dreamed of all those laundry piles, hazy darkness, the nests, the blue eggs, the yellow chicks, – dreamed before my surgery.
Some dreams are hope-revealed messages
I remember spending the night at my grandmother’s house, in the process of it becoming my house during the divorce. I dreamed my brother and I were trick-or-treating with neighborhood kids. It was a dark Halloween. We traveled all the way around the block. On returning, I wanted to run across the yard to my home, but these neighborhood friends suddenly turned into ghoulish villains holding me back, my fingers digging, tearing into my front-yard grass. My grandmother woke a sobbing me up.
Some dreams say what you cannot put into words
One dream happened when one son was 5. I stored it in my heart, shared it with my husband – it was a story message from God telling me He would save my son. I revealed it to this son when he said, “I want to come home. I want to find God.”
Another dream I had, in amazing 3-dimensional detail, about a family homestead, showing how the Holy Spirit had flooded its rustic stone walls and floors, washing it clean of debri, a power washing. “It used to flood all the time,” said a guide in the dream. “It hasn’t for years now.” The Father was letting me know it was time, time for another flooding of the Holy Spirit waters through my family. It encouraged me to met the Holy Spirit, to invite it to wash through my family, to clean it of piled-up debri.
My husband had a recurring dream of an son endangered. This was a son with a stomach problem – and once we had him scoped, the problem identified – the dreams stopped. Our son was safe.
Some dreams are God-reveal dreams of impending journeys, challenge along the journey, a heads-up-somethings-going-on dream. Sometimes, God wants us to know He will take care of it. Other times, He wants us to take care of it. Either way . . . . “Trust me,” He says.
One son, he used to struggle with night-terrors – or maybe they were pre-night terrors.
We established a bed-time routine designed to over-come those fears that come at night.
We read books designed to take his mind off whatever fears that provoked. Sang songs that ushered him past the bed-time jitters into beginning sleep. We prayed.
Nothing seemed to work – until one night we pulled out stories of men who faced fear in the bible and chose to trust God’s in the face of fearful things.
We talked about Joshua and Caleb who trusted God when everybody else chose fear:
“And Joshua the son of Nun and Caleb the son of Jephunneh, who were among those who had spied out the land, tore their clothes 7 and said to all the congregation of the people of Israel, “The land, which we passed through to spy it out, is an exceedingly good land. 8 If the Lord delights in us, he will bring us into this land and give it to us, a land that flows with milk and honey. 9 Only do not rebel against the Lord. And do not fear the people of the land, for they are bread for us. Their protection is removed from them, and the Lord is with us; do not fear them” (Numbers 14: 6-10)
“The Lord is with us; do not fear them”
Today, this son reads at bedtime – after we have our dwindling bed-time chronicles of the day. I guess at 14, things like bed-time chronicles with mom dwindle.
We talked about those dreams, though, one night.
“Do you have bad dreams?” I asked.
“No,” he said, settling in.
“What do you dream about?”
“Heaven” he said.
I sat there, just totally wowed. Heaven sounded better than nests of robin’s eggs.
“I just start thinking about what heaven’s like and I fall asleep thinking about it. Sometimes it becomes a dream.”
Some dreams are just sweet gifts from God.
“For the vision is yet for an appointed time and it hastens to the end [fulfillment]; it will not deceive or disappoint. Though it tarry, wait [earnestly] for it, because it will surely come; it will not be behindhand on its appointed day“ (Habakkuk 2:3)
Dreams for an appointed time. Dreams that tell of a journey designed to fulfill not destroy. The journey of the message or revelation cannot be hurried. Wait expectantly because God has assured it. He doesn’t send empty messages. The unfolding journey of a God-dream will fulfill itself right on time.
The hope in that sustains this mother’s heart, this daughter of the Father’s heart. It gives me great hope!
Have you read your God-sent dreams, read His promises? His messages?
A Crocodile Under the Bed is about a heads-up dream
974) The sheltering wing my husband offers in the midst of challenge
975) Early morning phone calls with my mom, filled with Florida to Tennessee weather comparison and her words of prayer and faith
976) The angel my mom said that appeared when she was having an asthma attack on the roadside, who showed her how to use her inhaler, who saved her life
977) hearts reaching for forgiveness
978) my son saying he doesn’t read my comments on his Facebook posts. The next day, I posted on his page, “Since you don’t read my comments, you won’t get the $20 gift card to your favorite restaurant” – 3 minutes later, my phone was ringing about the gift card. “You have a gift card for me,” he asked. “This was just a test. I see you do read my comments,” I said laughing. I laughed the rest of the day. I’m still smiling when I think of it.
979) lunch with a son (the same one who thought I had a gift card for him – LOL), who said that after a concussion his sophomore year of high school, he didn’t remember things from before, leaving me wanting to write a 31 day memory post for him, to remind him of how much he was loved, remind him of the sweet times – and give them as a gift to him
980) Driving with my permit driver. Instead of an anxiety attack, with hyper-ventilating – I gave him the words, “Well done, son! Well done!)
981) Toscana soup in the crock pot with green Swiss Chard
982) Friendship that grasps my hands, praying with me over piled-up challenges that over-whelmed
983) A table full of friends and spouses who are like family, gathered to support and encourage one of the group that will have surgery
984) Squirrels and their nests in tree tippy-tops – kind of like God winking at me, smiling and saying “Be brave, like that little fellow.”