Dream a Little Dream

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I’ve always loved listening to the convoluted accounts of people’s dreams. Most don’t make any sense, a sound-asleep brain making mishmash of daytime details, but it’s fun to pluck out bits of authenticity.

A crystal clear dream I had last night has dominated my thoughts all day. I was crossing the Atlantic on a big jet headed for Chicago. Midway across (i.e. 2000 miles from land) the plane poofed into oblivion. There was no violent explosion, just a disappearance.

Other passengers vanished, too, and I was left flying along in a summer sundress, high in the sky. Looking down at the ocean, I knew I was going to end up there eventually and wondered if the water was cold. But flying was glorious, generating a thrill similar to parachuting for the first time. I spread-eagled my arms, closed my eyes and hoped to stay airborne for many miles.

Every so often I looked down, but the water was still far away, and I told myself, “This experience is the highlight of my life!”

Gradually the ocean loomed larger, but I had no fear. Waves were small, almost non-existent, reminding me of the Titanic movie and a quote from the crow’s nest that night: “It’s a veritable pond!”

Finally I landed in the water, which was bright blue and delightfully warm. It felt good, and after surfacing, I rolled on my back in a floating position. Looking at the high clouds, I wondered which way to Chicago. Without the sun it was hard to tell. But I’ve always loved to swim and turned over to begin a gentle crawl stroke. It occurred to me 2000 miles was farther than I’d swum before, actually farther than anyone had. So I went back to floating.

A plane flew overhead, miles above, but I knew I was just a speck from that height and didn’t even wave. I began wondering what would happen to me. I knew sharks loved warm water and thought I might be gobbled up, but that didn’t seem worrisome.

Looking at the sky, I was thankful for the clouds, a protection from sunburn. But one concern, though not a big one, was my lack of drinking water. Could I make it to the US without getting thirsty? Deciding to hurry, I resumed my crawl stroke in earnest, but this time my head seemed too heavy to lift out of the water. I abruptly woke up, my head in the air.

Bothered by the dream all day, I asked God what, if anything, he wanted me to learn. To be cautious about risk-taking? To plan ahead better? To pay attention to danger signals? To seek his help before trying to go it alone?

In the end I decided his only message was, “Don’t eat a big dinner after midnight.”

“The fruit of the Spirit is… self-control. Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit.” (Galatians 5:22-25)

Special Delivery

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During the 6 weeks when Nate had cancer, we made almost daily visits to one pharmacy or another in an effort to secure the many drugs prescribed for him.

As the days passed, we sat in pharmacy drive-through windows longer and longer, arguing with insurance companies through pharmacy employees. “They said no more of these pills and only half of those.” As part of the larger health war we were fighting, these smaller skirmishes were necessary but draining, especially for Nate, who was often in the car feeling bad about  it all.

After Hospice entered the picture, they took our place on the front lines of all pharmaceutical battles, allowing us to step away, a tremendous gift. The drugs they prescribed came directly to our front door via FedEx’s daily visit. All the way to Nate’s last peaceful breath, the deliveries were always one step ahead of his need.

Jack, our usually-silent dog, always announced FedEx’s arrival with rude barking, so others in the family routinely beat me to the door to receive Nate’s prescriptions. But one day I made an effort to get there fist, wanting to apologize to the woman driver for Jack’s bad-mannered greeting.

“I’m sorry,” I told the tall, blond driver. “We’ve got a difficult situation inside, and the dog’s just nervous about everything.”

“Oh, that’s no problem,” she said. “I love dogs. And really, he’s right. I’m not supposed to be in front of your house or even on your street.”

“What do you mean?”

“My instructions are to leave all FedEx deliveries at the mail house by the entrance to your subdivision where they sign for them, and that’s what I’ve always done for other people. But you really need what I’m delivering, and you’ve got better things to do than run up to the mail house. So here I am.”

I was astounded this young woman would take such a risk for us, maybe even jeopardizing her job. Her thoughtfulness impacted me deeply.

This morning as I sat in a prayer group of 4 ladies, I looked at the empty chair in our circle trying to picture the Lord in it, because of course he was. Much like the FedEx driver, he comes all the way to us, knowing we are in need of what he’s equipped to deliver. He goes the extra mile for us, aware that we’re often too depleted to even meet him half way.

Better than that, though, he can deliver a custom-made remedy for everything that ails us, from disease to debts, infections to infractions, sickness to sins. The FedEx lady could deliver only what she had in her truck; God can deliver the gamut, because he owns the whole warehouse.

And boy, can he can deliver!

“He will deliver the needy who cry out, the afflicted who have no one to help.” (Psalm 72:12)

Happy Healing

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I became a widow at 64, and in the 22 months since then, it seems there have been endless new beginnings. It’s likely the first 64 years held more firsts than the last 2, but during early widowhood, everything seems problematically new.

Last week I got my first flu shot. I hadn’t planned on it, but the pharmacist was available, no one was waiting, and he advised me to take advantage of the protection. It was one more “new thing” without Nate. Had he been with me, we would have been doing it together.

As I left the pharmacy, I thought about the many vaccinations available these days, beginning with 6 week old babies. My children got more injections than I ever did, but as a result they didn’t have to suffer through mumps and several kinds of measles like my generation did. They also escaped more serious health issues like diphtheria, whooping cough, and polio. My grandchildren won’t even have to experience chicken pox.

These days adults can be vaccinated against pneumonia, shingles, hepatitis and the human papilloma virus. And I’m sure scientists are on the hunt for vaccines to prevent every ailment known to man. Too bad laboratories can’t come up with a hypodermic fix for the emotional ills of life. That’s almost certainly what the drug epidemic is about, an effort to inoculate against painful feelings.

Many of us would choose a bout with mumps or measles rather than suffer the sting of battered emotions. In taking a small survey of which psychological troubles people want most to be vaccinated against, fear was #1, because fear can precede all of the others: fear of heartbreak, fear of rejection, accidents, failure, sadness and many more. Fearing the unknown can be a disease, too,  assuming negative possibilities over positive. We’re all good at that.

Widowhood and fear go hand-in-hand, evidenced by our quick participation in the what-if game. What if I run out of money? What if I can’t get a job? What if I collapse and no one knows about it? What if there’s a break-in? No vaccination exists that can immunize us from these mental barbs, but we actually do have a remedy.

It’s a Someone.

God is the ultimate vaccinator. He can cure physical diseases when he so desires and also heal emotional malfunctions. With a thorough knowledge of our bodies, especially our minds, he’s a champion of understanding. His Rx is his Word, source of supernatural provision and endurance through everything that ails us. Scripture also includes prevention for much of it.

Just before I got my flu shot, the pharmacist handed me a pile of papers entitled, “What you need to know about the influenza vaccine, 2011-12.” Forewarned is forearmed. And in the case of emotional health, forearming ourselves with the instruction of the Word of God is the best prevention of all.

“For you who revere my name, the sun of righteousness will rise with healing in its rays.” (Malachi 4:2a)