(I don’t have an editorial calendar for my newsletter and blog . I send them out when I feel like my audiences’ needs and a message I have are in synch. For this weekend, I considered something new but decided to re-present this one from 12 years ago.)
I took a nap on Saturday, the day before Easter, and had a dream. I’m not one to remember dreams, nor do I put as much stake in them as some of my inspirations did, such as Edward Weston. Saturday’s dream, borne in the sleep of exhaustion (mental, emotional and physical), provoked me, unburdened me and relaxed me with a message not unlike the day to follow: Easter. I believe, however, that part of listening to life is listening to any and all messages that are available. This one was truly overwhelming.
In the dream, I walked away from a gathering, judging from the background noise, and to a car in the driveway. I was alone and moved to the car to lean against it, hoping for it to support me and my thoughts. The sky was blue and was also reflected in the glass of the driver’s side window. I crossed my arms over the edge of the car’s roof, looked at the glass one more time and then leaned forward in surrender, placing my forehead on my arms. I recall wondering what to do, when I would be more in control of my life’s direction and a dozen other questions that raced in my head. My dad appeared at my side (he died almost 25 years ago) and I began to cry. I choked on my thoughts and was only able to say, “I’ve got a question or two for you in just a minute.” Before I could gather myself enough to ask, he kissed me on the top of my head and disappeared. Tears again flowed. And I awoke.
The tears were not dream tears. My face was wet and a puddle of salt water had collected in my CPAP breathing mask, and they ran out when I turned on the pillow. I longed to get back to the dream, but simply lay there and felt the tears empty with new tears following them.
When I turned over in bed, I was not sad, but confident that, no matter what, I was not forsaken. The feeling was similar the next day, Easter, as I sat in church and sent my prayers forward in hope.
No matter where you are in life and how life is treating you, you are not alone. You have your God, those near you and those who have passed before you. And while you can’t always hear the answers to your questions and prayers, there is love and support there for you.
Happy Easter, my friends.