I had this dream...

One day last week, I had a terrible, horrible day filled with negative thoughts and beating myself up over the smallest things. I would almost cry at any little thing. I was frustrated, upset, and short-tempered, and I really hated myself for being like that. I tried to stop, but the enemy sure had me that day. It was terrible, and it was everything that was driving me crazy. My busy schedule, the neediness of my students, the frustration with not knowing how to coach basketball, the guilt and sadness associated with a predicament with my fiance all contributed to collective disgust and hatred. I went to bed upset and mad at the world. Then I had this dream...

There were rows and rows of beautiful, old houses. The kind people like to fix up and restore to the original craftsmanship. They were covered with layers and layers of tiny, intricate, unique snowflakes as if those minute flakes were trying to protect the houses from decay. My dad was walking beside me almost behind me. I couldn't see him, but I could hear him talking. I couldn't quite make out what he was saying. It was all muffled coming in staccato sounds. Everything was covered with white, white snow. We had shovels in our hands, but we didn't shovel the snow. We walked along the buried sidewalk. Together. Even though the flakes grew bigger and bigger falling like a rainbow of Skittles, the air didn't feel one bit cold. I felt safe with my dad, a sense of urgency and anxiousness plagued me. Then clear as a bell, my dad said, "Look up ahead. What do you see?"
"It's green. That doesn't make sense. It is green. Why can we see the grass?" I asked puzzled.
The house looked as it would on a fall evening after the first frost. No birds or animals running around. Just still. Silent. Peaceful. Calm. We stood on the snowy sidewalk looking at the pavement just a few feet ahead, at the pungent green color of the grass around the house, the intricate designs on the shutters. He said, "Make a choice. Now. How do you want to live?"
Still not able to see my father, I tried to turn my neck toward him and couldn't because my eyes were connected to the green as if by a magnetic field.
"Look at the peacefulness. Find your Calm," he said commanding me to do so as if I didn't really have a choice in the matter.
"Father," I begged.
"Yes, my child," he said with a deep voice that I recognized as God's voice. "I am here...always."

That is when I woke up. I think it was God. He was calling to me when I was fed up with everything, stretched to my breaking point. He reached out to me when my defenses were down, when I couldn't second guess myself. He was telling me He loves me.

And when people say, "The good Lord knows I needed it," whatever it may be at the time, well, he REALLY does KNOW.

Thank you, God, for your presence in my life.