Excerpt from a Dream

The following is an excerpt from something I wrote several years ago about my recurring dream.

She was told to open her mouth, it would be filled: She was His witness, she was His servant, and He had chosen her to know Him and to put her faith in Him and understand that He was God. She was told that He was sending her to a people that had not listened to Him, therefore would not listen to her for they were brazen and stubborn. So He would make her a match for them. He would make her as brazen and stubborn as they were. He would make her brow adamant, harder than flint. She was not to fear their faces, never to be terrified by them. Whether they listened or didn’t listen, she was to open her mouth and speak.

As she was walking one day, she got a working definition of the word passion. It was show and tell in color. She was walking with a young woman whom she has been mentoring, and, all of a sudden, she knew and, in fact, experienced what passion is. She knew that what she was doing at that moment was what she was born to do. She knew she could no more not do it than she could not breathe. It was like fire shut up in her bones. It was at that moment she realized it was a force inside plodding her along; it ignited and controlled her. It was not there by her choosing. She felt compelled to open her mouth. It was not something she had designed or defined for herself.

That day, she knew what she passion was. It was no coincidence that she was walking and sharing the Scriptures with this young woman. She had done this very thing many times before. This day she knew she was born for this purpose. She had discovered—well, let’s put it this way—she recognized and accepted the thing that made her feel fully alive.

He said, “Come.”

She answered, “Yes, Lord. Here I am, send me.”

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The Dream: She Forgot She Was Pregnant

From my journal in 2008:

Awakened yet again after witnessing the same recurring dream
She wondered, how long it had been since the last one
When would this stop, did she want it to end, countless times it had come
Each time bringing new addendums, something new to ponder
At all times it seemed somehow to tug at her heart; but she was to afraid to yield
Return again it would, she never named the baby; she was apt to forget the call

Days, months, and years, went by, once young, now growing gracefully older
She realized the finality that the years ahead were far less than
The years she’d left behind, as grandeur in youth they were, were gone
Yet in reality, what is age to God, so she asked Him for a heart of wisdom
To know, I know, she needs to be brave; she needs to acknowledge the call
For the dream came again… for she had not acknowledged the call

She looked in the mirror, to see a reflection of someone she didn’t quite know
She sees there the markings, indelibly etched on her face,
Her glory; once black, now silver has taken its place
Steps once swift; now more deliberate and sure
Her eyes well, they tear, when there is really no cause for crying
She had awakened from yet another dream…she forgot she was pregnant

What was that, she forgot the baby, oh no, would she dream again
Was it over, had she let the doubts and misgivings win
Had she let the years slip by, would she ever dream again
Yes, thank you Lord, she had the dream again; astonished and elated; at her age
She would be given the privilege to conceive again
Last time we heard, her water had broken, she was off to delivery

No holding back now, she acknowledged the call…she gave the baby a name

© 2008

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Lord, what is this baby?

As described in The Issue, I dreamed for years about having a baby. The content of the dreams varied, but I was always either pregnant or with a baby.

I wrote this poem on May 3, 2001 after waking from a dream in which I opened double doors and walked through with a baby in my arms. A black dog clamped down on my hand.  I pried the dog’s mouth open and took my hand out of its mouth, still holding the baby.

Lord, what is this baby that I am holding?
Or is it something in me you are still molding?

I was holding it in my arms, so it is already here.
Open my blind eyes; please unplug my ears.

Somehow I think I need to know its name
So I can stop this search and feeling so much pain.

Since you haven’t told me yet, I know I must wait
Until I’m led on the right path for your names’ sake.

Now, more than nine years later, I know the baby’s name: Message in a Word. Birthed through me, it originated from none other than God Himself. Here is the baby wrapped in its beautiful cover.

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