Martha's Murmurings

Musings on the human condition from a woman's perspective…

Do I have to have a title?

How to title something when I’m not sure exactly what to write…? For weeks now I have had different ideas flitter through my mind like so many dust motes. Light and bright they float through the air space in my brain (as I type that I hear every dumb-blonde joke my Dad ever lobbed my direction), but never quite landing long enough or well enough for me to form a complete post.

Who isn’t navigating a life where the cup isn’t merely full with a bit overflowing, but instead their bucket has simply tipped right the heck over and all the everythings are flooding every sensory pathway available and you’ve kind of hit an emotional shut down point? From watching actual assassinations on social media (since when is that okay????), to navigating how *that* impacts your children, to being over-booked, over-stressed, with projects never ending… when and how do you make time for God? For Prayer? For reading the gospels?

The answer *should* be… right now.

It’s not always so easy or simple, especially as a single parent where every dollar in is already spent, and even if you earn a bit extra one month, it’s hard to justify buying your kids a pizza night meal as a treat when you know that bit of extra still wasn’t enough to cover your bills that month. When to pray? When to find the Lord? When to find your friends? When to feel sane enough to have a decent conversation that doesn’t turn into an ‘all-about-me’ whine fest?

So. Today I was selfish and took the day for me (my kids were Thrilled – getting to spend a day with friends rather than the usual Saturday slog of chores) and went to #We Are Proclaim’s #Upper Room Conference. I’ve never been before, and it was really and truly a lovely day with a lot of profound ideas, praise and worship music, breakout sessions, excellent discussions and interviews and more. Who knew the new Archbishop’s Favourite colour was Blue? 🙂

But here is why I’m writing today… if you’ve made it this far or if you’ve ever read any of my blog posts, you know I can meander a bit before I hit the ‘point’.

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Pause. Breathe. Roll back 5 days.

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I had one of ‘those’ special dreams. The ones that are more real than real – that become memories that feel like they happened here…in this plane of existence, and not somewhere else. The ones that as a little girl I would be chastised for believing really happened and my mother would stumble over explaining to school officials that I wasn’t a liar…that what I shared I truly believed had happened and then would promptly ground me for a week when we got home.

In this dream I was in a place that *isn’t* – though I’ve been there before in previous dreams. A white sand beach, but also with a myriad of tiny pebbles that are beautiful to behold as the water gently caresses them and makes their colours shine; the beach leading up to beautiful waters that are spotted periodically with outcroppings of small islands and stone. You can step into the water and find it to be the purest, cleanest, clearest water… and walk through it, feeling it’s pleasant coolness slowly climb your shins… you can swim or walk or float your way out to these outcroppings, and there sit and enjoy the sun and time with friends in relative peace and solitude. The beach faces East, towards sunrise. It’s a popular place, but never seems crowded. There is space for everyone.

In my dream, I was visiting and I was there with a group of friends. We were all dressed in white gowns – summer dresses if you will, nothing that one would consider overtly religious – just pretty summer frocks that happened to be white.

It’s time to go, and we are in a wooden lodge, roughly hewn, there is no actual floor, it’s just walls rising up from that lovely sand. A bit of a rustic shelter – nothing extra, nothing special, and yet the kind of place you would pause to run your fingertips over the rough wooden walls and breathe in the calm, still air, and feel peace. Warm and lovely. Benches line the walls. I’m told to wait. And while nothing is spoken, I understand the Father requires us to do something before we can leave. I do not know how I know who the elderly man is. I simply just know.

An old white haired man, who stands fully upright, but you don’t really make out his face. His clothes are simple and home spun. A loose white shirt, a bit of a brown vest and brown trousers. You would be forgiven for finding the clothes to be a bit foreign, from another place and time. You would be forgiven for thinking He is small, but yet He is also not small. He is all sizes. He is barefoot. His white hair is wispy on his head, a puff of soft down gracing the dome of his head as though a crown. He is carrying a vessel with a narrow neck in age worn hands.

He uncorks it and mimes what to do – to dip your two fingers into the vessel and then to put the liquid on your chest. To cover the chest. It’s not a pure water, nor is it milk. It is a kind of translucent creamy colour – almost a hue of blue to it as well. As though the clouds and the blueness of the sky were mixed into the water.

We each took turns dipping our two fingers and traced the cool creamy wetness onto our chests until we had blessed ourselves.

And so ended the dream.

When I woke up in my darkened room, it was around 4am – and someone was in my home. I felt a presence of a dark, large someone just outside my bedroom door. Yet I wasn’t afraid. I stood up in my nightshift and walked over to investigate. There was no human there, and whatever had been was now gone.

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So – what has this dream to do with today? Today in one of the breakout sessions, we were given 4 minutes to draw whatever the Holy Spirit brought to mind. And He brought that to my mind. I am no artist – so to draw the vivid images in my mind is an impossible task.

I then had to explain the idea to whomever was seated beside me.

And I think I finally understood. Because the dream may have featured me, but it wasn’t ‘for’ me. It is for all of us. That just as we are being sent forth into the world to evangelize, to share our Love of the Lord, to share our Faith, that we must know the reason why. That it’s NOT about us. It’s about the other. That before we go forth we must first take the time to be blessed by our faith, to be formed, baptized, confirmed – to receive the Gifts of the Holy Spirit and understand that those gifts are for the others. Not for us.

I believe I was gifted this dream in preparation for today’s conference so that my mind would be open and fertile to the mustard seeds being carefully planted. That I would hear and understand that my companions are those who share in my faith with me and are willing to go forth.

As always, these poorly written blog posts are meanderings of my mind. Tonight in particular is probably quite poor because it has been some time since I’ve stopped to reflect in this way.

I have so many questions.

I have so much learn.

There is so much growing to do.

I was in the right place today.

Take care and God Bless,