A Dream

Over a month ago, I had the most beautiful dream of my life. I've been re-telling it to myself the last few weeks before sleep--wrapping myself in its warmth and security. Tonight, it was more difficult to recapture; my memory fades much too rapidly. I must save it here.

I was at home with John and the doorbell rang. On the doorstep, I found a stranger. A well dressed stranger who made it immediately evident he was on official business. My first impression was that he must be from the IRS or census bureau; he wore a grey suit and thick glasses. I could not see his eyes. I invited him in and he sat down on our couch and opened a laptop and briefcase. My dreaming self was perfectly at ease even though this visit was unexpected. Then he began to ask us questions about our daughter. I thought, "Oh, he is not from the government after all. He is a social worker." I was a little perturbed that we had not been notified of a home visit, but again, I had nothing to hide from this man in any case. His questions revealed intimate knowledge of our daughter's birth history and he would not accept vague or elusive answers. Who was this guy, anyway? Finally, he asked me if I had her eyes checked. I blushed with shame.

The day we were released from the NICU, I was told that preemies needed to have their vision screening repeated at four months. Though I remembered to ask my pediatrician about it later, we had never followed through with the test. He did not seem to think it was important and with all of her other medical needs, I wasn't itching to take on more appointments with a pediatric optamologist. Now well over a year old, she's never given indication that her vision is anything less than perfect.

In my dream, I opened my mouth to give these very good excuses, but they stuck in my throat. I could not put this man off. The stranger seemed to sense my discomfort and embarrassment. He began to talk about how important our daughter was and how vital it was for us to care for her--to the smallest detail. She was a gift and we were responsible for her. Yet, he was not angry or annoyed with us. His voice was kind and patient, and I thought, "This man is no stranger. He loves her very much. He loves me very much." Still not certain of the stranger's identity, I felt sure of that fact. I wanted to assure him that we were taking good care of her, that we loved her dearly, but then it suddenly struck me, "He already knows my heart." With growing awareness, I glanced at John, and then I knew.
I fell at His feet. I think John did too, but I can't say for sure, because after that moment, I was not aware of anything or anyone but Him. I remained prostrate on the floor, but I was not afraid. I only felt love--but a love that I've never known before. A complete love--not emanating from my heart alone, but every fiber of my being--whole adoration. As though each cell in my body clamored to praise this Man. And even though this was a new sensation for me, it felt right, like coming home after a long journey.

There wasn't any more to the dream. I awoke and instantly felt a sense of loss, but I was excited, too. I dreamed about meeting with Jesus! I told John and K about my dream. John wanted me to call for an eye doctor appointment that day. While I will definitely schedule the test at her next check-up, that isn't what I took away from the dream.

You know the story of Mary and Martha? Well, I've always secretly sympathized with Martha. I could completely see her point and considered Mary something of a slacker. I've listened to many good sermons and Sunday school lessons and I've tried to internalize His rebuke, and afterwards found myself still wondering, "Yes, but dinner had to be put on the table, didn't it?" However, I'm not a Martha now. I'm a Mary. After that dream, I cannot imagine doing anything--least of all slaving in the kitchen--when the opportunity to sit at Jesus's feet was before me. How could you be anywhere else? What could Martha have been thinking? Mary wasn't avoiding her duty. I now believe she was oblivious to the sounds, sights, and smells from the kitchen. Her senses were filled with Jesus, and He is far and away the "better part."