Tag Archives: dream

How to Enjoy Spring Break

1. Pack up the kids and head out of town.

2. Visit the new home of your adult daughter and son-in-law.

3. Sleep in the best room of the house on account of being the oldest person and the Baab (and Scoby) of the family.

4. Attend church as a family on Palm Sunday.

5. Pick up pizza after church and arrive home to find everyone singing karaoke.

6. Join in.

7. Do a Costco run with adult daughters and pay for everything in the cart, because looking around you realize you are the Baab and that’s what the Baab in the group does.

8. Come home and play Game of Things after figuring out where the pen is.

9. Laugh a lot and then some more.

10. Shop at LUSH getting bath bombs for most.

11. Meltdown on a double dog walk and crash from exhaustion while everyone else plays Quiplash into the night.

12. Keep your regularly scheduled Tuesday call due to no WiFi to send an email postponing it.

13. Go to the Virginia Museum of Fine Art with 9 other people related to you.

14. Relax and enjoy the museum.

15. Watch Netflix Nailed It over lunch.

16. Read 2 books.

17. Dream deeply and vividly each night.

18. Watch the kids open the pool for the season with a polar bear swim.

19. Wrestle your demons while your kids exercise their freedom.

20. Grab a second of hotspot to blog quickly before going off grid again and diving into a third book in as many days.

Celebrate

Today the love of my life celebrates another birthday. I have shared 30 of his special days with him. This feels momentous. He might say I feel that way about everything.

Thirty years ago my boyfriend turned 18. It was a year to the month that I first met him and six months after we began dating. My baby sister had been born two days before, and I was packing my things in preparation for a major move that would take place three weeks later.

Here we are together with the first newborn we shared. There is a lot going on behind the eyes of that sixteen-year-old girl.

There was excitement in celebrating that first birthday together, the last we would celebrate in person before marrying four years later. His birthday became a conundrum for me as I tried to choose the right gifts. I remember mailing packages those years before we married, feeling close to my boyfriend while shopping and selecting things I thought he would enjoy.

It was difficult not being together in person, because much is missed in the day to day sharing of life. Much was built up in my mind and the future was idealized. I thought it would be easier after we married. Please do not laugh. I am having a hard enough time being kind to that young woman inside. It was not easier.

Last night, Steve lovingly reminded me of the delicious coconut cream pie I tried to make for his 22nd birthday when we were newlyweds. It was more like coconut soup, but he ate it like a champ. I have not always had the stellar cooking and baking skills of today.

His contentment made it difficult for me to find “just the right” gift, because I could not tell what he would really enjoy, I don’t know if he knew, either, indicated by vague or practical responses when asked. I groped along, hoping to hit the mark.

I think I hit it this year. Number 30 just might be a charm. I don’t want to say more in the rare event that he has an opportunity to read this before tonight when he opens his gifts, but I am excited, and that is a good feeling.

This week began with a dream, one of those vivid ones that you remember upon waking and that stays with you all day. In it I was leading a story group. My husband was a participant. I thought it odd that the leaders would put us together but figured, Oh well, they know what they are doing.

One theme of the dream was distraction. As Steve began to share his story a rushing river roared noisily past, other group members were taking facetime calls, and a tiny elephant went walking by. I was trying hard to hear what he was saying, but even leaning in with great focus, I couldn’t.

I finally stopped everything and addressed the situation, naming the great distractions and the need to focus on Steve and his story.

Awww. Thank you for speaking up for me was his response when I shared my dream yesterday morning.

As I celebrate the amazing man I saw in those eighteen year old eyes, that is my desire for him this year, to focus on his story and on that tiny elephant walking by, inviting him to more laughter, creativity, and growth.

I hope to stop everything with him, and listen.

Happy Birthday, Love!

Arrival

Christmas came. It brought beauty, comfort, joy. It brought love. The hope I held in the waiting grew, and light broke through my darkness.

From early morning presents while live-video streaming with a man-child on the other side of the world, to sitting down for our traditional breakfast at a beautifully bedecked table, to napping and waking to the sound of laughter around the table, Christmas brought comfort and joy to my weary heart.

It brought tears.

There’s something about listening to adult children share life plans and goals around the breakfast table that touched a chord deep in my heart. How redemptive to have dreamers who can voice their dreams freely. What a gift!

My parents joined us for dinner at 4:00.

They played a game with the grand kids while Steve and I cleaned the kitchen. Redemptive grace.

More laughter.

Christmas is hard for me. I am learning to understand and find more words as to why that is. I am learning to be kind to the places that hurt. I am growing.

I took two naps.

I showered using my adult daughter’s Lush bath products, massaging a seasonal body wash over my skin, turning it a grinchy shade of green. I breathed deeply and grinned a grinchy grin. I am the grinch, and it is okay.

I laughed twice today. Real laughter. Deep laughter.

My son who was video streaming from Bali, Indonesia, as we opened gifts, later commented on my first laugh. It was fun hearing you laugh so much when you were opening your present.

Eleven-year old daughter had wrapped thirteen-year old son’s gift to me for him. A bag of peppermint-cookie Lindor truffles was wrapped in layer upon layer of paper. Each layer that I tore off revealed another. It was so funny to me, peeling back paper only to find more. Real laughter erupted from my innermost being.

I really do love my kids and their sense of humor. Mostly. Usually. When I slow down and have time to appreciate it.

The second laugh was as Steve and I were walking the grand-furs. I held Wren’s leash. He had Dewey. Steve and Dewey were ahead of us. I wondered what would happen if Wren and I passed them, so we ran ahead.

Dewey was not happy with this, and his short legs moved double-time to pull Steve along. I hadn’t told Steve my thoughts or motive for running ahead. He commented, Dewey doesn’t like having Wren ahead of him.

I started laughing. I laughed more. Wren and I let them pass us and then ran ahead again, laughter bubbling up from inside of me over how funny Dewey looked trying to catch up to and pass us. Laughter felt so good. So freeing.

It has been a good Christmas. It has been a hard Christmas. It has been a good, hard Christmas.

Hashtag blessed.

Before

It’s the last night before. Tomorrow begins the first leg of the journey to after.

It seems that I should have really profound posts written and scheduled, but I just don’t. I have a suitcase almost packed and a satchel almost packed and a stack of cards and thoughtful gifts left by dear ones walking this road with me.

There are memories, so many, being made with the people in this house who need me more than cyberspace needs me. So instead of writing I drive through DQ and McD’s and take Dewey on an extra-long, three squat walk with the littlest girls.

I walk our downtown streets at sunset with a son who towers over me, a bag of Windy City Mix popcorn shared between us. We talk and reminisce of how this journey began to come into focus for me, and his key role, because he had one. His excitement for me offers courage to my fainting heart. His upcoming travels around the world remind me that I can do these trips across the country.

Messages come in from children and friends on social media sites. People remember that this is the first trip, and they care.

I am shocked and overwhelmed by care.

So many people are loving, praying, encouraging.

It is so humbling.

I am so blessed.

So I hit publish on this to give you a quick glimpse into before before spending time with my favorite. He is the one I will miss the most, who is working so hard and doing so much to support me and make this year of training happen.

Did I say how blessed I am?

Pour Coffee and Ponder

I need to take my own advice. So good about helping everyone else to think and process, I often leave myself behind.

This morning I received a text that turned into a phonecall that ended with laughter and greater curiosity. It caused me to pull out some old writing, sketching, and dream journaling I had done and read and laugh and think, huh.

It is a gift to have those in your life who were there with you, wherever there was, and who are willing to go back there with you when needs be. To be able to share in safety without having to explain or over-explain is golden.

This was one of my people who just gets it.

As I sent a picture of a dream sketch I had made with this person in it and received comments back, the conversation ended with me texting, Enough about me and my dreams. Pour coffee and ponder yours.

That is what I needed, as well, reminding me that I often speak to others what I need for myself. So that is where this post finds me, pondering dreams and other parts of me, and writing with my poured coffee.

The gift of the slow Saturday morning gets eclipsed by all of the shoulds running through my head. Instead of resting in gratefulness for the space, I rush around trying to fill it. Sometimes just sitting in my PJs on an unmade bed with a laptop open at 9:50 on a Saturday morning is an act of defiance to all that threatens to bind me.

So that is where I am. Pondering with my poured coffee. Grateful for a partner engaging the kids and their chores so I can be on the other side of a closed door, I write.

In Which I Have a Dream

. . . about puppies!

It’s Leap Day, and before it ends, I want to write about something light-hearted and fun.

I blame my sweet friend, Davene, and her copious Facebook puppy pictures and posts filling my feed. I’d much rather focus on puppies than Presidential Primaries, which is saying something, because dogs aren’t even my favorite.

Just yesterday there was a video of the puppies venturing outside for the first time, and I watched it. Then there was the blog post about it. Then the dream.

I am fascinated by these puppies, seeing as I first heard that they were on the way on the eve of the big snow. Davene and I ran into each other at the library, and I asked about Willow and found out that she was great with puppies. Turns out, she gave birth to them during the storm.

I have followed their progress, often thinking, At least I don’t have 10 puppies to care for! in the midst of my overwhelm. We all have our own stuff, you know. Some people have puppies. There is lots of love to go around in the Fisher household and lots of schooling going on and lots of learning. It is pretty incredible.

Davene is pretty incredible!

On to the dream. It was one of those that comes in the night and just sticks. I still remember it, even after writing it down this morning in my Dream Journal.

We went to the Fishers’ house to see Willow’s puppies, finally, after talking about it for some time. As usual, there was attitude from a certain child or children who shall remain unnamed. Not unusual.

We were still driving our big white van, parked it, and got out.

We went into the house, and puppies were EVERYWHERE. They were anywhere you looked. Puppies. Crawling into this and out of that. The children noticed two that they wanted. In true dream form, they looked nothing like any of Willow’s ACTUAL puppies. They were more cocker-spanielish in appearance.

The Fishers were more than happy for us to take them, so we began making plans for that. I noticed an unusual-looking black puppy that seemed to have a collie-like appearance around the face and ruff around the neck. It also had stripes on its sides and a bushier tail. I noted to myself that it seemed to have gotten all of the recessive genes, and looked rather skunk-like.

That is when we noticed that it really WAS a skunk. It jumped onto my back and began clawing at me as I ran around, freaking out, in true Christmas Vacation form. THERE IS A SKUNK ON MY BACK!!!!!

I ran outside where it was somehow removed.

We loaded up and headed home with two new puppies to add to our menagerie. The dream ended with them being introduced to Dewey, Zephyr, and Buddy.

There you have my latest dream. It’s not big or life-changing or risky, unless I choose to analyze it. Then, maybe, I had better look out! Because, you know, there was that skunk and all of those puppies.

Picking Chicken

I stand at the sink picking chicken. I am not literally doing it in the sink, but a large cutting board resting over it creates extra make-shift counter space. I can look out of the window at leftover snow-clutter in the yard, and watch Dewey frolic around, muddying his paws.

Picking chicken forces me to be present in the moment while allowing my mind to wander slightly before bringing it back again. There is much to do, lots to keep up with, but right now feeding the family is on my mind, hence chicken picking.

The chicken I am picking comes from bones left from a meal we had earlier this week ~ a whole chicken cooked in the crock-pot. After eating what we could, the remains were placed in a covered Corning Ware dish in the refrigerator to be processed later.

Later is today. I cannot bear for food to go to waste, and if I don’t attend to this, that is exactly what will happen. It brings me to a Saturday afternoon picking chicken in front of the window. I am thinking and dreaming and trying to stay focused before slipping into the abyss that I often dangle above in my thoughts.

It’s quite the mental balancing act. Good thing I have this chicken to keep me grounded.

Earlier, I pulled two bags of broth from the freezer and emptied them into the slow-cooker. I added some salsa verde, cut the bigger pieces of meat from the bones, and opened two cans of great northern beans, leaving it all to cook for the day. Saturday meals are a challenge for me after a busy work-week. Here’s to white-chicken-chili with cheese and chips later!

I dropped the remaining chicken into a pot on the stove with some onion, covered it all with water, and left it to boil and simmer as chores and such took place. I turned the heat off, strained the broth, and left the bones to cool. There was a lot of meat still on them, leading me to the place of picking chicken.

Picking chicken is not my favorite, but if I do it, there will be meat in the freezer to pull out later. I can use it in my chicken pot pie recipe that is frugal, except for the time it takes to make it. A requested favorite, it will come in handy on a night when my son is unexpectedly home, and I want to cook up some love for him.

Picking and processing chicken is a skill that hearkens back to my field experience days as an at-home mom of lots of children. There was plenty of time to hone that skill as most everything was fixed from scratch as frugally as possible.

I am in a different season. Now I am trying to save for dreams on the horizon, and one way I can make money is by saving money, and one way to do that is by picking chicken.

 

Sunday Dreaming

Sunday afternoon nap dreams are delicious.

Sunday afternoon’s dream was vivid and full of symbols to look up and meanings to interpret.

To clarify, I enjoy looking up dream meanings and connecting what is going on during my waking life with what my mind downloads and processes during sleep. I dream vividly, often about current situations I face. I don’t attach mystic meanings or special dispensation or interpretation to them. I do listen to what my mind is trying to tell me when I let it relax.

It’s somewhat affirming to wake from a dream laden with obscure themes, that upon recording and looking up, ring true in reality.

It came as no surprise that my dreams were laden with symbols of obstacles, problems, and annoyances that I am learning to overcome, while other symbols of ridding myself of old ideas, notions, opinions, and negativity appeared.

Forgiveness and letting go were present, as was the need to be more goal-oriented.

Releasing burdens that are not mine to carry, facing everyday problems more effectively, and allowing myself to be cared for emotionally by those who love me manifested in my sleeping life, urging me to pay attention to these while awake.

Do you dream while sleeping? Notice any parallels between sleeping and waking life?

I find it interesting that my scheduled Bible reading for today was Genesis 28, containing Jacob’s dream of angels; Matthew 27, containing Pilate’s wife’s admonition to her husband to have nothing to do with Jesus, because she had suffered much because of him in a dream; and Acts 27, where an angel stood before Paul at night telling him that there would be no loss of life in the shipwreck that was to come. Fascinating timing, since I wrote this yesterday and was debating posting it. 

 

Glimpsing a Dream

My son was disappointed.

The mailing envelope that looked so much as if it could house a performance video he has been anticipating, was for me and housed a devotional.

I was thrilled.

A friend from a season sent me a copy of her book, But God….

I have been wondering where to park next for my time with God. This is a good place. 

I look forward to reading and pondering her thoughts. She shares depth and vulnerability from her own journey and place of pain and offers glimpses of hope and redemption in the midst of intense struggle.

I celebrate her courage, this friend of mine. To realize a dream and grasp it and do it is no small thing. I know this, because I remain in the trying to realize place.

What is it that I dream of doing? Being? Becoming?

I am grateful for the goodness of being surrounded by genuine, imperfect, beautiful people who inspire me to keep trying to dream, even when I may not know what that means or how it feels. I am inspired by those who just do it, like my amazing friend!