When one of my kids wants to tell me about a dream they had, I inwardly roll my eyes and brace myself for the most tedious story ever. This is why I will never take home the Mother of the Year trophy.
So on a Friday morning at the end of a long week — well, actually it was the end of a series of long weeks, I felt especially averse to conversations that start with, “I have to tell you about the dream I had.”
Just the day before I had said truthful but ugly things that a mature and godly grown-up should not say. And then I slammed the door for added punctuation. I sped off to two different schools and then to an event for work.
I was out of gas in every way but faked that I wasn’t, telling myself that all sorts of people live very busy lives and I needed to get over it already. When I returned home early afternoon, I ate lunch on the sofa and turned on the television. It was on the Home Shopping Network and I tuned in for 30 minutes like it was my job, fully convinced that I needed the $30 heart-shaped blush baked on real Italian tiles for two days.
Exhaustion and depletion make us vulnerable like that. We convince ourselves that we deserve certain rewards because of what’s missing in our lives.
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Even though this season of my life is bursting at the seams in a way I’ve never experienced, even though there’s precious little space to reflect and process, grief still manages to chisel itself into the tiny cracks.
Busy-ness is only a temporary deterrent from unattended ache.
Last week I took a few minutes to list the things I miss. It felt like a small but necessary step toward living more honestly with myself.
- I miss writing so badly that I cry just typing this sentence.
- I miss having the physical energy that enabled me to get up extra early just a year ago.
- I miss having more time together as a family.
- I miss my kids when they were little and the stakes didn’t feel as high.
- I miss the dreams for my creative work that feel forever on hold.
- I miss putting our younger kids to bed early and having time in the evening with my husband to watch TV.
- I miss the seasons when my sanity felt slightly more intact and I didn’t live with a constant, low-grade anxiety / anger combo that I can’t quite figure out.
- I miss relationships.
- I miss the days when the family calendar had more margin.
In the whole scheme of things, this list of losses is not so important. They are a collection of small griefs.
But the sum of them all feels terribly heavy in my heart.
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On that weary Friday morning, I had also missed two weeks of Bible study and most of the lessons in between. I felt like I was languishing in every way — physically, mentally, emotionally, relationally, and spiritually. I felt like a failure and a fraud. I needed nourishment and encouragement but was too tired to seek it.
As my youngest son crunched his cereal and I made my daughter’s lunch, he persisted about the dream.
I suppressed my silent scream of “Noooooo” and said, “Tell me about it.”
Well there were all of these lions everywhere. They were at the park and on our street and in all the yards. But they were in our yard more than anyone else’s yard and they were always trying to get in our house.
At this point, a thought entered my head: Marian, maybe you should pay attention.
So there were all of these lions in our yard but there was this one really big lion. You know, the kind that has all the hair around its face? This lion stood in our yard in front of the house.
Me: Well, was it a good lion? Were the other lions bad?
Yeah, the other lions were bad and wanted to hurt us but this lion was protecting us from all of the bad lions. And he was our friend. Like, we could ride on him and stuff.
By this point I had stopped making the lunch and turned away because my eyes stung with tears and I had goose bumps.
In the midst of bread crumbs and Lucky Charms and lukewarm coffee, I felt the palpable presence of God.
I know that plenty of people, even spiritual folks, don’t believe that God shows up in our dreams like that. Especially in the dreams of a child. But for all of my natural inclinations toward skepticism and cynicism and all things rational, God has often bypassed reason and apologetics to get my attention.
I don’t presume that most dreams have spiritual significance but I do know that we’re at our most vulnerable when we’re asleep. And just as I have been attacked by fear and evil in my sleep, I have also been ambushed by truth and beauty.
Perhaps we see truth most clearly when our eyes are closed.
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When I finally walked into Bible study that same morning, utterly worn out and tardy, having forgotten to bring change for the parking meters, I realized I’d done the wrong lesson. Of course.
Instead of Jesus’ trial, we read through Jesus’ prayers for the spiritual safekeeping of believers while we are still in the world.
Things could not have been more clear. “Dear God, message received.”
Why am I always surprised when He breaks through the universe into my own insignificant corner of the world to show me that life isn’t up to me to get right? It is not like a quest to find the Holy Grail.
Human striving has no place in the kingdom. We live and move and have our being from a totally different source.
My schedule, my spiritual disciplines, my energy level, my work / life management, my family — all of these things are kept by a loving God who meets me in weakness and cluelessness and utter lack.
It’s not ultimately about my resolve. It’s not ultimately about my abilities or faithfulness.
He’s got us. Period.
And this is grace.
I’m tempted to add all sorts of disclaimers right now.
Now that doesn’t mean we don’t do anything or have certain responsibilities, blah, blah, blah…
See? I’m already doing it.
That’s our tendency with grace, to qualify it, to tame it.
But doing that dismantles grace entirely.
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This is a strange post that feels utterly disconnected and hasn’t seemed fit to publish.
Here’s what I’m trying to say:
For those who are languishing in one way or all the ways —
For those who are too tired to try and get it together —
For those who just bought another life-improvement book (for the record I’ve bought 3 in the last month) —
For those who are being bullied by the busy-ness of this season of life —
For those who are holding a collection of small griefs but to acknowledge the heaviness seems silly —
For those who are trying to get their spiritual act together but keep failing —
God has you.
That means you’re safe.
Safe to fall apart. Safe to weep. Safe to grieve. Safe to rest. Safe to ask for help. Safe to confess. Safe to have more questions than answers.
Safe to find Jesus in the dream of a child.
He walks to and fro, before you and behind you, fending off invisible enemies you may never know this side of eternity.
Your less-than state is no match for the Lion who is Jesus Himself, the One who intercedes in literal prayer and power for you and for your family.
It doesn’t mean we won’t have trouble here. We know all too well that trouble is alive and well. But it does mean we have a fierce and good Rescuer who has ultimately overcome the worst trouble.
May the awareness of his presence, the surety of his protection, and the encouragement of his intercession be your strength when you are too weary to muster your own.
Truth that might encourage you today:
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You’re still here? Good. I was afraid this post about dreams and lions scared everyone away.
Here’s an extreme twist in subject matter:
For those of you who have been hanging around for a couple of years or more, you may remember The Real Pretty Shop. I had such fun opening those virtual doors for several sales. But then I got a real job. We moved. I have three kids in three different schools. And you get the picture — life has been fuller than full ever since.
But that hasn’t stopped me from tucking away little treasures in hopes that the shop might open up again. Sometimes I say to myself, “I might have a teensy bit of a problem.” And then I realize that I don’t have a problem, I have an unofficial shop. That just happens to be in a spare closet of my home.
I’ve been working here and there in the cracks of time and…
I’m opening the shop for another sale!
YAY!!! And also, WHY AM I SO NERVOUS???
This sale will be a bit different than last time. I’m opening the doors on Instagram instead of on the blog. The shop will open at 7 am on Thursday, March 30th. Be sure to follow me on Instagram @marianvischer. I’ll do a post that morning telling you where to go and what to do.
I have twenty-something handpicked ensembles this time, all of them perfect for spring!
Full disclosure: I have a disproportionate amount of size smalls. : ( Don’t hate me.
This is partially because I get excited and buy cute things for myself, but end up wearing the same jeans and boots and denim shirt 90% of the time. #Iannoymyself
If I open the shop again in the future, I promise to have a more representative selection of sizes like I had in previous sales.
So hop on over to Instagram, follow me, and if you haven’t updated to the latest version, you may want to do that because I have multiple pics of each ensemble. The latest version Instagram lets you post multiple pics in one post. {Bad when someone just took a vacation and wants to show 10 different angles of their poolside mojito. Good when Marian opens the shop and wants you to see all the fun details of the outfit you’re buying.}
Hope to see you at the shop on Thursday!
Love, Marian
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