Last night I received Part One of a two part gift: a dream about Nate. In the dream he was wearing a white shirt and tie, and was working on legal papers. I found it interesting that he was wearing one of those half-sleeves men used to wear in print shops (wrist to elbow) to spare their dress-shirts from ink. In the dream Nate was using a leaky fountain pen, so I was pleased he’d covered his sleeve.
Strangely, the two of us weren’t indoors but were sitting on chairs outside, perched on the sidewalk along the main street in our little town. I was enjoying the sunshine while he worked.
“It’s almost time,” I said. “Will we be leaving soon?”
“Yes,” he said, “but not till I get this work done.”
And that was it, a mini-conversation and a quick glimpse of my husband’s face. But I loved it.
Part Two of my gift came today from the back of a drawer. It was an envelope with Nate’s writing on it. His script was horrendous, and I frequently complained about its illegibility, but this card was printed. I interpreted his doing that as a desire to make it legible for me. I probably didn’t appreciate it at the time, but today I did.
The note was written on a retreat weekend by himself at our summer cottage in Michigan (now my permanent home) in 2006. Since he’d been under incredible work stress then, I’d encouraged him to take some time away, and it didn’t take much persuasion.
Over that weekend, he bought and mailed a card to me: “To my one and only…” it said. He knew I wouldn’t receive it until two days after he’d arrived home, but he wanted to put his thoughts down while they were fresh, and he sent it regular mail. Inside it said:
Meg, thanks for the idyll in Shorewood, extremely generous (as always) to me. Great as it is, “it ain’t the same without you.” Dinners alone are empty.
Time on lesson #8 [a Bible study we were doing together] – work notes and investing are beneficial – Psalm 75:6-7 really hits me – “Only from God” – not degrees, work, shrewdness – lessons learned and to be learned. Love, Nate
(Note the asterisk after the paws, referring to a note at the bottom: * Not only paws but millions of doggy kisses! — private joke)
The longer Nate is gone (4 years now) the more precious my dreams of him and these “finds” become. I see them as God’s custom-designed gifts of tender care, and he does this kind of thing for all his children. Although he doesn’t send dreams or letters every time I miss Nate or every time someone is sad, when he gauges the time is right, he sends something special.
And today I’m smiling over his two-part gift.
“If you then…. quite naturally give good things to your children, how much more likely is it that your Heavenly Father will give good things to those who ask him?” (Matthew 7:11)
