The Man of My Dreams

I awoke the other morning, just like I have each and every morning but this time as I sat up and looked back at the empty side of the bed I had the unmistakable, albeit weird, combination of sadness and joy as I realized I had been dreaming about Dale. I couldn’t bring up the details but I knew it was a dream about him. He has been the man of my dreams for most of my life.  I first dreamed of him when I was three and recognized him 15 years later when he took me in his arms and we danced for the very first time in this life.

But the other morning, he was only a dream again. I would have to get up and go on through my day without him…again. A routine I am becoming accustomed to in an agitated sort of way. I wondered if now, after all of these days and weeks and months and now years since he died that perhaps my day-to-day existence now might be a bit boring to him when he must be seeing and doing and experiencing such wonderful things on the other side. A forlorn tear dropped from my eye.

Later that morning I happened upon a quote by President Gordon B. Hinckley about his beloved wife, he said:

“As I held her hand and saw mortal life drain from her fingers, I confess I was overcome. Before I married her, she had been the girl of my dreams. … She was my dear companion for more than two-thirds of a century, my equal before the Lord, really my superior. And now in my old age, she has again become the girl of my dreams. To lose one’s much-loved partner with whom one has long walked through sunshine and shadow is absolutely devastating,” he said. “There is a consuming loneliness which increases in intensity. It painfully gnaws at one’s very soul. But in the quiet of the night a silent whisper is heard that says, ‘All is well. All is well.’ And that voice from out of the unknown brings peace, and certainty, and unwavering assurance that death is not the end, that life goes on, with work to do and victories to be gained. That voice quietly, even unheard with mortal ears, brings the assurance that, as surely as there has been separation, there will be a joyful reuniting.”

Such comfort that gave to me.

As I climbed back into bed that night, well…I know you shouldn’t ask the Lord for a sign but just then I sighed and said out loud, “Dale, can you give me a sign? Something that tells me that you are still here for me?” 

By the afternoon of the next day I was thinking how silly and even a bit presumptuous it was that I had asked for a sign when suddenly a text blinged in on my cell phone from my son who lives thousands of miles away.  He texted, simply, “A Quick message from Dad"...

The next day as my sister and I ran errands together we decided to drop by a charming little shop in the village and as we meandered through the French décor that reminded me so much of Dale a song started to play. It seemed that I was able to listen to each word as the melody filled the room….I recognized it as the Mamas and Papas song, “Dream a Little Dream of Me”

Stars shining bright above you

Night breezes seem to whisper I love you

Birds singing in the sycamore tree

Dream a little dream of me

Say night-ie night and kiss me

Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me

While I'm alone and blue as can be

Dream a little dream of me

Stars fading but I linger on, dear

Still craving your kiss

I'm longing to linger till dawn, dear

Just saying this

Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you

Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you

But in your dreams whatever they be

Dream a little dream of me.

I whispered to my sister, “I think Dale has just given me another sign!”

 

“I know he has!” she said, “The last song they were playing in here was “I’m Gonna Make this Place Your Home” and I had the strong sensation that he is up there making a home for you in that place”

So he not only gave me a sign, he gave me several! Signs that tell me that the love we shared here on earth is still a vitally important and real connection now.

That evening I was sending out a few emails and my program told me that I was nearing storage capacity and needed to start deleting some things. So I thought I’d go back through some of the older Emails to delete them and clear up some space. The first thing that came up was an Email I had sent to Dale on Aug. 15, 2009 at 11:09 pm.  He was doing a lot of traveling for business and I had come upon an old old song by Dean Martin that spoke of dreams and also the words that mean so much more to me now…”It’s my heart you own so I will wait alone."

Then I remembered the dream I had when I was in my early forties. In my dream I had died and I saw a white spiral staircase and a man dressed in white was descending. As he came closer and closer I recognized him and I felt such happiness as he stopped, held onto the railing and it was Dale who said “It’s me!”  I knew we were together again.

And so an amazing blitz of signs from the man of my dreams coming over the course of several days this week, telling me that I don’t ever have to worry again if he is still here for me. I make note of each one here so that I can remember them if at any time should I once again think hmmmm…are you still here? I’ll be able to read this.

I kissed his photo just like I do each and every night, climbed into bed and switched off the light. “Sweet Dreams” I say to myself contentedly. .

The Whole World is a series of miracles

It was Hans Christian Andersen who said that “The whole world is a series of miracles but we’re so used to them we call them ordinary things.”

I find myself surrounded by ordinary things. But aren’t those the very things that make us thrive? These extraordinary ordinary things that are our daily miracles?

“Just living is not enough” said the butterfly “One must have sunshine, freedom and a little flower."

How incredible that those miraculous things are there for the taking!

And if you think of it… it also seems to be quite an ordinary thing, this going to sleep each night and waking up each morning, we do it 365 times a year and yet isn’t it quite a miracle to get a new start that often? A fresh chance to conquer a new problem or whittle away on an old one.  A chance to make better choices; a chance to say I love you to the ones you care for the most.

Early on in our marriage Dale and I purchased a large gold framed copy of a painting that touched our soulful hearts through the power of its ordinary things. It was never “home” until that painting was hung in each new house along our life’s journey.  Imagine our joy when meandering through the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City one morning we entered a room and there on the wall, was the painting.  “OUR” painting.  Gigantic in size (the original painting itself is 9 feet wide and over 6 ½ feet tall and it is encompassed by an ornate gold frame making it even more massive) and gigantic in power, we sat on the bench in front of it, he put his arm around my shoulders and I scooched over and nestled into that safe embrace and absorbed the peace of the ordinary things both in the painting and in his hug.  

The painting was created in oil on canvas by the brilliant artist, George Inness.  We learned that day that as an ardent abolitionist, Inness tried to enlist in a Massachusetts regiment during the Civil War. Although he failed the physical examination, he organized rallies and frequently gave speeches to drum up donations and volunteers and as the war was ending he created this masterpiece that he called Peace and Plenty (1865) to give hope to a war torn nation by illustrating farmers peacefully producing fields of ordinary wheat under a burst of ordinary sunlight representing the miracle of "plenty" that could once again be the nation’s norm.  Dale and I felt the miracle of those ordinary things; I feel it even now as I look at the painting after all these years. And amazingly, the artist's depiction of these miracles has bolstered the hopes of millions for well over a century.

Last week I made the decision to make joy a daily choice and today I see that paying attention to the phenomena that are in ordinary things is a good way of doing that. I am constantly reminded by newsflashes that bling in on my cell phone of all the trauma and angst that surround us today adding to my own daily fears and frustrations but this observance and acknowledgement of the power of the ordinary gives me strength and a balance, I dare say even a solid base of peace and hope, an elevation in the thoughts and dreams of an ordinary person living an ordinary life.

I Need a Blessing That's Not in Disguise

I have to admit I am weak this morning, emotionally spiritually and physically after yet another night of fractured sleep.

I'm not the least bit happy to see the sunrise in fact I'm actually annoyed as I watch it try to peek, poke and push its way through the slats in my window blinds. I smugly think how happy I am that I closed them last night and avoided a full on blast of dreaded sunshine.

Do I really need to do battle with the Goliaths that are awaiting my entrance into the day in the hope that something good will come of the fight?

I'm weak. I know I have been blessed with what has come to me through my trials but this morning I am weak.

I'm inclined to side with Kitty Collins who said....

”What I need is a blessing that’s not in disguise”

I could get up and fix breakfast, I consider.  Maybe an egg and toast? Maybe I'll fix the egg the way Dale liked it. He said I was the only one who could fry an egg the way he liked it. But then again what fun would that be without him to eat it?

 I sigh.

I decide I'm just too miserable, too unhappy, too used up and I pull the covers over my head.

And then, a voice, a soft voice….

"Joy is a choice"

I flip the covers down.  “ Ya know?”....I stare up at the ceiling....”That's true.” I say a bit hesitantly to the empty room.

My mind wanders to the lost boys of Sudan and a book I read called: Running for My Life: One Lost Boy’s Journey from the Killing Fields of Sudan to the Olympic Games by Lopez Lamong.

Snatched from his mother’s arms at gunpoint during a church service when he was 6 years old, he was thrown into a massive filthy camp somewhere in the Sudan where thousands of other “lost boys” lived in horror and starvation. Malaria and other diseases raged and boys died each night. He sat crying. He couldn’t understand how his parents couldn’t find him. Another boy, a bit older, who had been there longer got right up into his face and said “Stop! You see that boy over there?” He was a young boy like Lopez and he could tell he wasn’t going to survive much longer because he rarely left the tent where he sat day after day rocking, rocking, rocking as his mind slowly slipped away.  The older boy told Lopez that he must not sit and wish for something that is never going to happen or he will lose his mind. He needed to focus on here and now, do his chores, keep his mind busy.  This is the life you have now, he told him. Accept it or end up like that other boy.

Lopez sat and stared at the rocking boy for a long time, there were others like him who cried for home day and night. Eventually, malaria always got to these boys. He locked eyes with the rocking boy and he asked himself “What will it be?” and the answer was easy, he jumped up and ran out of the tent and chased after the older boy.

So...back to me. I could lay here and rock back and forth and go over, under and around and through my list of woes or…. I could take the advice of that subtle whisper and choose joy.

I sit up. “Well what will it be? Considering everything, I think the answer is easy, I'll choose joy.”

Even though I will never ever experience the hardships faced by the lost boys, my hardships are still mine and they can seem overwhelming. But they are mine to deal with. I get out of bed, less conscious of the aches and pains and walk over to the blinds and as I open them, sunshine floods the room and I welcome it.  

I head for the kitchen and pull out the small skillet that I haven’t used since I fixed breakfast eggs for Dale. I realize my quest for joy doesn’t have to be monumental - just a pinch of joy added to every thing I do.  As I go through the egg frying process I realize I’m not sad, I’m not lonesome, I’m enjoying this.  I sit down to eat, it’s Good!  I enjoy every bite.

This day is already different than I thought it was going to be. It's as if in my weakness and my desire to withdraw from the challenges of the morning an angel decided to change my day with 4 little words and whispered....”Joy is a choice”.

I'm going to apply that to everything I do today, saying “I do this with Joy!” or “I’m going to Enjoy this!” It occurs to me that it is one part of my life where I have total control. I can choose stress I can choose giving up, I can choose to be grumpy, miserable or defeated or I can choose…I Can Choose…I CAN CHOOSE!!!!  Joy.

Follow That Sign

The days are long in the land of the midnight sun but it was getting dark when I finally reached my charming hotel in the seaside village of Bogense Denmark one summer evening.  Too tired to do anything but shower, pull on my pajamas and climb into bed, I attempted to learn just a few words from my tiny but fat little English-to-Danish translation book. 

Good morning, where is the breakfast room? I looked up: God morgen, hvor er morgenmadslokalet

And just in case I was asked I need to be able to say....It was delicious, thank you. I looked it up: Det var lækker tak

I placed the book on my nightstand and clicked off the reading light. Sweet dreams awaited.

Early the next morning I awoke excited for my day of exploration.  Eager to discover the area where my ancestors would have spent time I dressed quickly, threw my camera strap over my shoulder and headed out the door in search of the breakfast room. 

"God morgen, hvor er morgenmadslokalet?"  I asked a pretty blonde haired girl already headed in to make up my room.  She smiled, pointed and happily spilled out a long line of sing-songy words that I pretended to understand, smiled back and said ”Tak!”

My plan for the day was to meander the lanes and paths throughout the small village and work my way down to the water experiencing, photographing and basically absorbing the absolute Danishness of the place. It wasn’t long before I saw a simple light blue sign in the shape of an arrow with white writing, it said, ”Envejsgade”. I reached into my bag for my dictionary only to discover that I had left it on the nightstand. Oh well, I thought, I’ll just wing it and since the arrow was pointing in the direction of ”Envejsgade” I’d just follow it and find out for myself.  Along the way I strolled in and out of of shops, photographed ancient doors and windows filled with flowers and forgot about the sign until there it was again, leading me to Envejsgade. I headed in the direction it pointed, ended up ordering Smørbrød for lunch in the cafe of an inn that had been established long before America became a nation. Out into the sunshine again I quickly spotted that sky blue sign with the white writing pointing me towards ”Evnejsgade”.

Where is this place? I wondered. Strolling past idylic homes and following the brook that meanders its way through the town I captured in my camera the street market with baskets filled with hand spun wool, many more baskets overflowing with fresh local fruit and vegetables and also enjoying the sunshine were the children, oh the beautiful children. I worked my way to the docks where the boats were moored, rising and falling gently in the blue waters of the sea. I stepped into a dockside pastry shop and had an Æbletårte.

”Det var laekker tak” I was able to honestly say to the waiter and then stepping out of the cafe I saw the sign again. Envejsgade.  

So I picked up on it once again, really determined now to find this place! I slowly made my way around the village and suddenly I was back at my hotel.  Happy with my day and resigned to find Envejsgade first thing the next morning I fished for the room key in my bag, unlocked the door and went inside. I kicked off my shoes, dumped my bag and camera on the bed and spied the little dictionary on the end table. Ok, I thought, now to look  up ”Envejsgade”.  A....B....C...I flipped through the book  to E.  

Ok...Envejsgade..found it...it means... ONE-WAY STREET

I dropped the book on my lap and laughed right out loud at myself. If someone had been following me they would have thought I was a bit daft!

The memory of that serendipity day played in my mind this week as I drove to the market.  The street leading there is under heavy construction. Trees are being torn down and in the name of progress, the road will be widened but it’s slow going and the speed signs posted all along the way say 25 mph.  I was dutifully going 25 but could see in my rear view mirror an anxious woman in the car behind me, tail gating and scowling. I could also see her daughter sitting next to her, in another quick glance in the mirror I could see the girl rolling her eyes and could almost hear her saying ”Oh Maaahhhhmmmm”.

When we reached the end of the construction area the car with its frazzled driver zoomed past me, I saw her and thought ”Oh a stressful young mom with places to go, things to do and people to see!”  She looked at me as if to acknowledge, ”Oh a grandma with all the time in the world! UGH!”

At the market I picked up the items I needed and got in line. There was a white haired lady in front of me at least 15 years my senior. She had many questions and stories for the cashier and a stack of coupons for each and every item that he passed through the laser pricechecker. And then she had difficulty getting her credit card to work but then finally smiled, finished the story she was telling the clerk about her new baby great granddaughter, sighed, signed her name electronically and said, ”Now I’ll need help out with all of this” So I waited while the cashier called for help. The lady looked back at me and said, ”Oh I’m sorry, I know you must be in a hurry”.

Frankly, I was but all the while I was thinking how odd that I was the old woman on the road and the younger woman in the check out line. I had been the young mom in days past, gosh I had even been the young daughter and I will be the older lady in days hence. How very important it is that we recognize where each other is on the road of life and have empathy and compassion since it’s a journey we are all taking! A one way road of life meandering its way through all of our learning experiences from beginning to end with all of its many turns and twists.

That night my son and I were texting back and forth about leadership positions and how you need to lead with patience and love and understanding. He texted in his own inimitable, deep thinking way:

You have to lead, teach, inspire and do it all with the help of the Spirit and with a ton of love and patience to be successful.  Everyone’s going a different speed on this highway of life and that’s just fine as long as they are at their own top speed.  The hard thing is knowing what everyone’s top speed is – and I guess that’s why we have to rely on the Spirit to help us know what the top speed is for those we are leading and not assume they are or should be moving at our speed.  The beauty is that the Lord doesn’t focus on our flat tire or bad transmission, he sees each of us as fine tuned engines, knowing our top speed ability at any given time. We need to observe each other that way too.

I thought how perfectly that fit in to my day's experience.  I'm reminded that there is a story behind every person. There is a reason why they are the way they are. I must make it a game to learn the reason or imagine one before I judge or react to a person who is also traveling down their road of life earnestly trying to decipher the signs they encounter along the way.

Nyd rejsen (Enjoy the journey)