I Had a Dream …

The last nearly 17 years have been paved with uncertainty, suffering, and trial along with mountainous piles of joy, happiness, and deep love. This is the life raising a disabled child. On May 10, 2007 we were told Brynna wouldn’t make it but a few hours, days, or weeks. Six weeks, and several giant roller coasters later, we brought her home on borrowed time, just to see what the Lord had in store.

That’s when the Lord began to teach us who He truly is; to show us the depths of His love. In the past 17 years we’ve seen this non-verbal bundle of sass and vinegar defy the odds, look hardship in the eye, and be used by God to melt the most hardened of hearts. Through it all, so long as Blue Clue’s is playing in the background and her mirror for self-inspection is handy, she has endured through it all with a smile and infectious laughter.

I can’t imagine the amount of physical pain she is in every day as her limbs grow more and more frail, her knees more and more bent, her physical well-being more and more fragile. Yet still, through it all, she remains a vessel of honor, a mighty woman of valor.

Each and every morning in the dim light of her room as she wakes, I ask the Father one more time to give her complete physical healing, because that’s what I want for her. And every morning He reminds me He made her the way He wanted; the way He could use her the most.

I suppose this was on my mind as I fell asleep some time ago as the Holy Spirit spoke into my resting soul. I had a dream. A dream I will never forget and that often brings tears to my tired eyes.

I dreamt of the day when she meets her Savior, the One who formed her in the belly, broken by the standards of men, perfect by His transcendent ways. In my dream she was bounding across a field full of gently blowing grass, ebbing to and fro in a gentle breeze, her hair, tied up in a small bow as it often is, flipping around her face. She spun in circle after circle, a common practice she attempts in front of her mirror, taking in this beautiful day, an enormous, cleftless smile across her face.

Her legs weren’t bent or crouched. Her hands weren’t thin and wispy, her feet plush with good circulation and eyes bright with life only He can bring. As her gaze swept across the slow rolling hill, she caught glimpse of someone she’d longed to see face to face; the One her came to her each and every night to make her laugh and give her sweet rest. You see, almost every night of her entire life, once her bedroom door closes, we hear her on the other side of the door in hysterical laughter from a deep place of joy and peace. If we open the door, she stops and stares at us as if we’ve interrupted something sacred. So, we close the door back and she giggles again, like a school girl who’s crush just left the room!

It was that same laughter I heard as I slept when she ran to meet Jesus standing close by, arms open wide and a smile on His face I can’t describe. She ran as fast as she could, something she’s never done here on earth. As she got close, she jumped into His waiting arms and the two of them laughed and laughed, spinning in circles of joy. No doubt an event she’d rehearsed millions of times in front of her mirror.

Then, almost abruptly, He stops, sets her down in the grass and places His hands on her shoulders. With a big smile, and tears in His eyes, He bent over and simply said, “Thank you.”

“Thank you? For what?” she quipped, startled a little that words instead of groans came out of her mouth. “Thank you for enduring.” He said gently. “Thank you for being so faithful; for being one of my special vessels of honor.” Her faced still looked puzzled, unsure of what exactly He was talking about.

In just that moment, He looked deep into her eyes and said, “Let me show you what I’ve done with the pain you suffered all those years.” Then He turned her around to see an innumerable throng of souls, some there presently, some yet to realize their full healing, but all directly or indirectly present because of the testimony of a little girl who never said a word. “They’re here because of you,” He said.

Her eyes filled up with tears and her little chin began to quiver as she turned and hugged Him tighter than anyone should be allowed. He quietly said “Welcome Home” and I woke up.

I’ve not shared this dream with very many people, but think of it often, every day in fact. I can barely keep my eyes dry each time, thinking of how blessed we have been to see His face in hers for 17 years. As her little body has begun to tire out and the past six months have brought on new challenges of pain and discomfort, I can’t help but wonder how many more souls she will touch with His grace; how many more years our joy is made full in her hugs, her laugh, and occasionally, a sharp poke in the eye.

I hope to hear those wonderful words one day, but I somehow can’t imagine them sounding anything as sweet as when she is told, “Well Done.”