Entertaining Angels

"Be not forgetful to entertain strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares." Hebrews 13:2

Plan B

Does the fact that I insist on having a "plan B" mean that I don't trust God? 

I don't mean "plan B" as in the morning after pill. I mean "plan B" as in having a fallback plan for when life doesn't turn out the way that I hope that it will.

Where should my faith be met with practicality? And, how far should I expect faith to carry me before I trust my feet to greet the path in front of me?

Safely home

Last night I dreamed about a dear friend. As dreams go, there were people, parts and pieces that made perfect sense while my eyes were still closed...figures from my past, weighted symbolism, words of  truth. When I woke, that same jumbled dreamscape seemed far less sensible, but I remembered one thing:

In a great hall surrounded by people I had known my whole life, Jan sat across from me at a table stretching as far as the eye could see. Our conversation included everyday things--children, yard sales, and hanging clothes on the line. I only looked away for one minute, and when I turned back she had disappeared. 

It was then that I remembered.  

Jan couldn't be there among the living, she was gone. Really gone. Grief choked my words as I managed to say to the woman next to me, "I forgot. It seemed like she was here."

In the dream, I excused myself from the table, and went to another room to be quiet with my tears. In my lifetime, Jan's fight with cancer and her death has affected me more than any other that I have known. Her words  "prepare to live as you prepare to die" changed how I live today.

That wasn't the end of the dream though. I slipped out of that great hall onto a stone terrace, where the air was sweet and clear. I heard their laughter before I saw them. To my right, Jan was sitting on the steps with a beautiful little girl. Her face was framed in golden ringlets, and she was dressed in pink ruffles. Together they turned the last pages of the large storybook they held between them. There heads were bent near one another, and their joy was almost visible. I could see the front of the book was illustrated with climbing roses of every color imaginable. Its title was simply: Safely Home.

They closed the book and stood. Jan reached for the child's hand, and they did a little jig. Happy steps--almost like tap dancing, but more spontaneous. All arms and legs until they were breathless. Together they stopped and gave me a thumbs up sign. And, together they turned and walked away...safely home.

Restoring the Soul

"I believe because it is absurd." ~Tertullian

Something is happening to the stony grip that has clenched my heart for longer than I care to admit. I am reminded of C.S. Lewis's description of Aslan's warm breath freeing the statues in the courtyard of the White Witch's castle. Remember?

"A tiny streak of gold began to run along his white marble back-then it spread-then the color seemed to lick all over him as the flame licks all over a bit of paper-then, while his hindquarters were still obviously stone, the lion shook his mane and all the heavy, stone folds rippled into living hair..."

The Quest Begins

"There is One, even Christ Jesus, who can speak to thy condition."
~~George Fox

Up from the grave...

I MIGHT start blogging again. MIGHT.