A Dream Worth Remembering

I have been chastised for not writing in such a long time. I promise it was not intentional. I have allowed myself to get caught up in the business of work. Things have been quite crazy there since the start of the new year. I hope (more like pray) things are regaining some normalcy.

So, I could rattle on about what all has been happening since my last post, but at the risk of boring those who may still be stopping by, I will just stick to the latest.

We still haven't found a support group. I am a little less concerned about that since finding out Marta Anne died from Acute Leukemia. I knew in my heart it would be helpful finding out the exact cause, and I was right. At least for season. A season which now appears to be over I might add.

I have been really melancholy lately. I read about a technique for dealing with negative thoughts by simply telling yourself to replace the negative one with a positive one. This worked for a while, but not so much now. It seems even the positive thoughts become a source of sadness as they make me miss M.A. even more. Or, a new twist...the positive thoughts sometimes make me miss the "what could have beens". As I write this I realize I may well be recycling previous issues. Oh well, here we go again I guess.

On a particularly difficult day last week, I prayed as hard as I ever have that God would allow me to have a peaceful night's rest and that I would either have happy memories fill my dreams, or that I would not remember my dreams at all. I am so thankful that once again my Redeemer was faithful and true.

I will share my dream and then I am going to bed and try the same tactic again.

I dreamed I was in a very large room. This room was extremely large... high white walls, cathedral ceilings, etc. No windows, only a large mahogany door at the end of the farthest wall. I walked to the door and grasped the large shinny brass handle. The door opened towards me with what seemed to be a little aid from the other side. As I moved in to peer inside the door, Martha Anne stepped into the doorway. She appeared to be about eighteen or nineteen years old. She seemed surprised to see me there as she said, "Oh!, Hi Daddy". "Are you okay?" My eyes filled with tears as I replied, "No baby, I haven't been okay for sometime now". She smiled the sweetest smile, just as she always did and said, "Don't worry...you will be." Then she touched my face and said, "I have to go now, but I will see you again soon...I promise."

As I have stated in here before, I really have not been one who believes our loved ones who have gone on before us actually see us, or come to us, or watch over us. I mean after all, what good would it do for her to see me struggling? Wouldn't that take away from the splendor of Heaven, wouldn't that cause her to worry about me?

Then it hit me. I don't need to understand how things work on the other side. I prayed for a peaceful dream and God the Father heard my plea and honored my request. So I will simply say, "Thank You, Father", and cherish the memory of my dream. A dream worth remembering.