**Sorry about the wonky text/spacing stuff going on. I don't know what happened. I tried to fix it and made it weirder. It's my bedtime so this is how it'll stay.**
I've had this dream. Twice. Not the same dream exactly, but still the same dream. Same theme, same location, similar series of events. The first time I don't think I told anyone, but I remembered it, which is noteworthy in itself. On Sunday morning, I had the dream for the second time, and told my husband because it was just so off the wall, and weird that I'd had it again.
Haha. "Weird."
In my dream, people are gathering in my small town next to the fire station. In the parking lot, in the street, next to the grain elevator, in an empty lot. Someone, or some group of people, has brought all these orphaned children from Africa. It is announced, "These children need homes. Who will raise their hand to take one?" And they are handed out.
(The children/babies may have been set on a trailer or something, I can't exactly recall, but I had this strange thought that is was like the auctioning off of slaves - and in fact my hubby said the same thing when I told him the dream. Not that it was cruel or debasing in any way, just the large group of humans, maybe it was because they were black. I don't know. It's not meant to be a racist element, and I don't honestly know that it has much importance, but it was part of the dream so I am including it here. For records sake, if anything.)
I know there were people who volunteered and took babies, but I was there without my spouse, and taking in a baby is not the kind of decision you would want to leave your spouse out of. So I didn't volunteer. I just went home.
The second time I had the dream, we, the town, knew that the babies were coming, though I'm not sure if they were there yet. I remember thinking that it was just like "last time," because I was remembering my previous dream. People gathered in the same place, and again it was said, "These babies need homes. Need love. Who wants one?" This time, however, I thought, "Well, maybe I could take one and just talk to my husband about it later." And this is where the dream ended.
HAHA. I think that's hilarious that I thought that, "just" take a baby home. I would never do that in real life. But anyway...
Told my hubs, he made his comments, no weird vibes or expectations. Life just carried on as normal, and I left for church.
When I get to church, the sermon and theme was... get this... Orphan Sunday. I kid. you. not.
Ok, so now is when I'm feeling... weird. Not weirded out, but my ears are a bit perked.
Can I just point out that this is how God is so awesome. Even though I don't really take time to devote to God and study and proper Christian things these days, even though I'm going through whatever spiritual journey I'm on, even though it really sucks sometimes, GOD SPEAKS. And he speaks TO ME. It's also his way of inadvertently letting me know I'm in the right place. And that's a good feeling. At least I'm doing something right, if only to show up for church on Sunday.
Our current sermon series is on Isaiah. It's a big book. And God is talking a LOT to the people of Judah. He wants the people to trust Him, to look to Him, to protect them and to be their hope. They're having a hard time with this. (haha. What a unique problem they were having. :D) They need the security of "flesh." And He keeps trying to persuade them, convince them, to trust Him. When we don't trust God, our religion becomes self-serving. In that, we sense our lack so we hoard and protect what little we have, and we blame others.
I feel that hoarding. As self-preservation, but hoarding nonetheless. And I'm ashamed by it. I also know that it comes from my lack.
We were meant to draw everything we need from God. (Hmmm... this seems to be a recurring theme for me. Wonder why?) We get what we need from Him by trusting. Trust = Faith.
And when we do this, we looooovvvve. We ooze gooey love. Think of a person newly in love. Like that. It comes from where we know not. Certainly not from ourselves. We give generously out of an endless supply (because He is our supplier - of love, too). We experience rest. Sabbath. Not because life slows down or demands are less, but because we trust in Him to take care of our needs and those that need us, and we just sit at His feet, resting and soaking Him in.
And how does this relate to orphans, you ask? The answer is in
Isaiah 58. While you should read the whole chapter (it's not long), I'll just point out this passage:
6 “Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen:
to loose the chains of injustice
and untie the cords of the yoke,
to set the oppressed free
and break every yoke?
7 Is it not to share your food with the hungry
and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter—
when you see the naked, to clothe them,
and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?
At the end of the sermon, a few people shared about how they serve in our community. Big Brother Big Sister program, Refugee Assistance programs - teaching them about and how to live in our community, Royal Family Kids Camp and foster care. I was on prayer team but since no one had come up asking for prayer, I turned to my co-prayer team member. I told her the bit about the dream and just not understanding what it all means but that there's something here and that God would reveal it.
In praying, one of the things that really stood out for me, in a convicting sense, was the love bit. I'm a compassionate person, I have a heart for the lost, the lonely, the cast-aside, especially children. Growing up I knew I had it good, parent-wise. While it may be an easy thing to overlook or not understand it's value, I did. Even then I knew I was blessed. I didn't take that for granted and I see even more today what an impact family has on who we become. Now I'm a mom, a parent, and it's frickin' hard and I worry daily that I'm screwing my kids up beyond repair, wondering what raving lunatic of a mother they're going to remember. Some days, IIIIIII am not enough. IIIIIIIII do not have enough love. I feel like I run out; that I can't give even one more ounce and thank GOD it's bedtime. And I feel bad, ashamed, that as a mother I could say that. I know I could get hate mail for saying that. People would gasp and guffaw at that statement. I'm not shouting this from the rooftops, that's for sure.
Recently I wrote a
bucket list blog post on
All My Monkeys. One of the things I wrote down was be a foster parent. (And that could be loosely defined as simply being a stable parent figure for my kids' friends that may come through the door, as I've
already talked about too.)
So how does "an orphan" fit into my life, how could I love anyone else? I am lacking, and I know I need to put my trust and my whole life even more into His hands because HE is Enough.
And finally, after the day was done and I was "resting" and reading some blogs, I clicked onto one that I don't normally read because it's just too much for me emotionally a lot of the time some times. But Sunday, I clicked. Even though I had heard mention somewhere in bloggyland that she might be on a missions trip, because I hate reading those blogger mission trip accounts of all the needy children and it feels like a big guilt session. My mission field currently is my own family and, as I've stated, that's more than I can handle some days. Not that I want it to stay that way, but that's how it is for now. But not even thinking of the earlier events of the day, I clicked to check in, see how it was going.
And
this story laid. me. out. Big, loud, gulping, snotty sobs. Sobs of sorrowful love, love for someone who has none. Or very little. It kills me. Even now. Cries of 'it's not fair,' and 'how can this be,' and feelings of guilt that I can muster up just a little more to cry for this kid but not to give my daughter 'goodnight hugs and kisses' some nights.
I just need to remember, HE is Enough.
Lots of little pieces of a puzzle. Two dreams, Orphan Sunday, a bucket list item, a blog post about a boy named Jonathan.
I don't know what it means, what the future holds, but I'm listening.
