The Blame's On Joel

Mornin' all. Notice I didn't say "Good Morning?" This morning is devoid of good thanks to a horrific nightmare I had at about 3 am this morning...so I guess it's technically a morningmare. And it's aaaaaaall Joel's fault! Who's Joel, you ask? Well, if you're not an avid reader of the "Crummy Church Signs" blog/book (you're missing out,) you cannot possibly know whom I speak of. One of the signs that Joel displayed says something to the effect of "Don't let the stresses of the world get you down. Let the church help." Which is, of course, a really bad unintentional play on words. But it drives Joel's point home. Most church signs, although designed to be useful tools of well intentioned Pastors, are the inanimate victims of poor implementation, and often poor spelling/grammar as well.


Sorry, got off track there for a second. My point is, the sign I described above, must have stuck in the back of my mind like the half used containers of dipping sauce that are often stuck to the floors of the van. They seem like harmless little items, but the stench always comes back to haunt, until they are cleaned out. I really should have cleaned out that particular crummy church sign before retiring to bed. My dream played out like so:


The kids and I were in a Catholic church for mass. It was a very old stone building, not at all like our parish. In the middle of mass, there came a huge rumbling sound. I thought it was an earthquake, so I grabbed all the kids I could, and screamed out, to everyone else, to vacate the church. People started scrambling as the old church started to collapse. Being that Daniel was not there with us, it was up to me to save all of the kids. We made it out as the last of the great stone walls crumbled to the ground.


Amidst the dust and utter confusion, I tried to count my children. I was able to see Reed being carried out in the arms of a stranger. I counted five others. One was missing. It was Phillip. (I'm starting to cry again, so excuse my spelling.) I looked everywhere in total panic. Nobody could find him. Finally, Daniel's oldest sister, informed me that Phillip had suffered a huge blow to the head, and passed away. I turned to look for my husband. I found him (where was he earlier?) sitting on a bench, in a state of utter despair. My husband, my rock, the one I could always lean on, had crumbled like the church.


I awoke, in a cold sweat, bawling my eyes out. Daniel thought I was crying because of the thought of Phillip dying. That was a big part of it, of course. I don't know what I'd do if something happened to one of my children. But the fact that I couldn't save them all, because there are so many, is what shook me to my very core. I started hyperventilating from the fear that gripped me. I am only one small person. If something ever happens, how can I possibly save them all? I can't. It is the most helpless feeling in the world. I lay in bed, sobbing and praying that God will always carry my babies in his arms, until I fell back asleep.


That is the first dream I've had of that nature. It was a real eye opener, and a difficult reminder that I'm only human. Seven of them, one of me and (for this I'm eternally grateful,) one very awesome God. But the reality will be ever present in my mind, we have no control over when our children's time is up, here on earth. I am truly thankful for each day I have with my seven wonderful seeds. So Joel, I guess that I really owe you my thanks for the inspiration that was your crummy church sign posting. It gave me one very bad dream, but one very important reminder! However, I am expecting you to come and babysit the kids so I can regain the precious sleep I lost last night!


Now I'm off to visit Humor Blogs, in order to find something to laugh about and bring my morning back to "Good" status! I encourage you all to do the same after reading this depressing post!!