Somehow it didn’t feel like I was sliding. Yet when I looked at my feet and compared them to where I thought I was, it seemed that they had moved farther down, almost to the edge of this amazing place. There was no question that the ground below me was solid, for I was familiar with the foundation—although it was now becoming clear that this climb was not going as intended. I raised my head and strained to look up, and that’s when I saw them. Two strong, massive hands reaching down, down, down. As the hands and arms seemed to grow larger and longer, I realized that they were reaching for me. Then swiftly and suddenly the two sturdy hands grabbed hold of my arms, pulled me up, and set me back down where I needed to be.
I jerked back to reality to find that I had not just awakened from a dream. In fact, my eyes were wide open, for I had been fully awake through it all. I looked nervously around the little basement room where only moments ago I was working on a homework assignment. A shiver shook all the way down my back. I was relieved that no one else was in sight. What I had just seen was so real, so vivid, and so jarring—yet I had no idea what to make of it. I thought it may have been a vision, but this was not something taught in the Anabaptist, Mennonite-type church I belonged to. So, I chose to store this experience in my memory, sharing it with no one for a very long time.
At the time I was living in Toronto, Canada. It was my first year of college, which was no small feat for a high school dropout. Things were going extremely well. God had opened doors I hadn’t even knocked on. It was my first time living away from home. New church, new friends, new school, new routine and new ways of transportation which included two hours and three transfers on buses and subways to classes every day. Lots of new experiences, along with a new friend and her parents inviting me to live with them until I “found my wings.”
I was involved in our church in my new town with youth group and friendships, services, etc. All things considered, college life was as expected. School continued. Time passed. Assignments seemed to never end. There were internships, summer jobs, decisions, friendships, moving, joy and heartbreak. Basically, all the stuff of life for one in their early twenties. By graduation I had made some choices that I knew were not pleasing to my parents, who had been notified of my decisions. I was not overly concerned about this because I had spent what I felt was a ton of time praying and asking God to close doors if this was not part of His plan for me.
As I positioned myself to head in this new direction, a friend drove me home to visit my family for a weekend. I knew it was a bad time to go home, as my parents were certainly still processing my new plans. Upon arrival, Dad wasted no time asking me what I thought I was doing. I recall that my response to him was filled with sarcasm.
Mom was better at timing. Towards the end of the day we were in the kitchen together. She began asking questions about my plans, my future, etc. I thought it was nice, since I knew she was capable of really throwing her opinion in my face. As our small talk began to lag, Mom looked at me and hesitantly began, “You know, Terri, the other night I had a dream about you.” At this point my ears perked up for I was aware that Mom had ‘dreams’. She proceeded to share her dream with me and by the time she was finished, I was amazed and speechless for what she described to me was EXACTLY what I had seen in that vision almost two years previous!
“And,” she emphasized, “I had the same dream twice.”
By now I was shaken to the core of my being. This was not a dream that needed interpretation. Instantly I knew that what I had experienced in those early days of college, was in fact, a vision which clearly intertwined with Mom’s dream. I had been so sure my life and my faith were anchored on the solid Rock, the foundation of Jesus Christ, my Savior, yet at this moment I saw that instead of firmly building on this Rock, I was slowly sliding to the edge. I could sense God saying, “This is it. This is what I was showing you back in that little basement.” I then instantly knew that I was the one who needed to take action.
More words were exchanged, but by now I was in a panic knowing what needed to be faced. Things are never easy to undo and rarely without heart-wrenching consequences. I praise God that He walked with me. That He gave me grace and courage. That He gave me the words I needed to ‘clean up my mess’ and move forward with Him.
Today, August 23, 2018, marks five years since Mom went to her eternal reward. So many memories. So many longings to spend another afternoon with her. All of which will have to wait until I see her again. I never told her why her dream made such an impact on me. I realize more and more that by not judging me, or embarrassing me, yelling at me, or comparing me to others, she gave me a great gift. She felt the need to share her dream with me. She listened to God’s voice in her own heart and became instrumental in helping me to change a course I had stubbornly determined to follow. A course that was all wrong for me.
I don’t believe I ever thanked her (in words) for what she gave me that Saturday afternoon some forty years ago. I do know my life was forever changed.
Thank you, Mom, for being there for me at such a critical time!
And thank you, God, my Heavenly Father, for showing me as in the words of the prophet, Isaiah:
“Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you saying, ‘This is the way, walk in it.’” Isaiah 30:21 (NIV)
(Written October 2018)