Two nights ago I had a dream.
I was walking on a street with Silas, holding his hand. We were happy. There was a feeling of peace, security, comfort. Up ahead we saw a bird or some flying creature come down from heaven and perch high on a tree. We knew it was an angel in bird form. We also knew that Silas would be one soon. He was going to take that form. That’s what we were walking toward.
As we approached it, we stopped. Silas scrunched up his face. “My head hurts,” he said. I knew the transformation was beginning. I was filled with peace. I looked at him and said, “You’re going to see Jesus! Look for Jesus!”
And then I woke up. My heart was racing. As I was waking up, I realized what the “transformation” meant. What Silas going to heaven and seeing Jesus meant. I couldn’t go back to sleep.
I stewed on this all day yesterday. I couldn’t get the image of his scrunched up face out of my head. I had a hard day.
This morning after dropping Silas off at school, James and I ran a couple of errands and then headed home. We came home a different way than we usually do, up a long country road that we don’t normally use. I knew there would be a stop sign at the point where we needed to turn, and so I drove along, looking for the stop sign.
WHOOSH. What?!? As we crossed an intersection, a car almost hit us! My heart was racing as I immediately honked my horn. Typical East Coast reflex. Why didn’t he stop? Wait, was I supposed to stop? There was no stop sign!
I made a U-turn and drove back toward the intersection. I looked across the street to where I had just come from, and sure enough the stop sign was there – run down into the ground. No wonder I hadn’t seen it. We had come really close to getting hit. Too close for my comfort. James was in the car with me.
Thank you, Jesus!
And then it hit me. The realization. The awakening from my dream two nights before.
Jesus was sending me a very clear message, in a way that my dense brain could understand: “I AM IN CHARGE OF YOUR LIVES.”
Thank you, Jesus!
My life, my husband’s life, my boys’ lives – they are all in His hands. My racing heart, his scrunched up face, the tears flowing as I type this right now – none of them matter, because our lives are in His hands. We can rest in the peace of knowing He is in control of every minute of our lives, and we will live on this earth for exactly however long He has planned for us. We will move on to our eternal home whenever He says so. And then we will see Him and run into His arms.
OK, I’m getting off my shoebox now.