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Dreams

By on Aug 19, 2016 |

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Other people’s dreams are so boring. So let me tell you about mine.

I truly believe that God can speak to us in dreams. I read once that if the dream is one that is as vivid to you days, months, years later it was probably a message from God.

This particular dream happened 20 years ago. My youngest was a baby. I was mired in the drudgery that is the life of a stay at home mom. I felt like I had no purpose in life. Who am I? Why am I here? What is my purpose?

One night I had a dream. .In the dream I was in turmoil about all of the above. An angel appeared. The angel appeared as a floaty, light filled, peaceful being and I willingly touched her garment and I began to float until we reached a door. This was a rough hewn door with big, black, crudely designed latches and hinges. On the door was a handmade wire hanger with a long robe made of a rough flax/linen type fabric. I immediately fell to my knees because I knew that I was in the presence of Jesus. I began to ask while in His presence all of the questions above. I received no answer but I did feel peace.

The dream continued. The angel and I floated to the door again. The hanger was still on the door but the robe was gone and the door was ajar. I slowly opened the door. The room had dirt walls and a dirt floor. It was a small room just large enough for the huge wooden cross that lay catty cornered in the room completely filling the room. The robe was nailed on the cross. Each arm was nailed and the hem of the robe had been bunched up and nailed at the bottom of the cross. The robe was tattered and blood was everywhere.

I fell to my knees and in a panicked voice said, ” Jesus, Jesus, what have they done to you? How can I help you?.” In my head I was thinking something along the line of calling 911 and getting someone who knew how to stop the bleeding. In the most clear, calm voice I have ever heard Jesus said, ” Do not try to save me. This is my destiny. The way you can help me is to be my hands and feet.”

That is the end of the dream. I woke up as soon as the dream was over with my heart pounding and I began to pray and give thanks to God for giving me a message. Please keep in mind that it is 3 am and my husband is snoring beside me.

Now I am aware that if you have made it this far into this post you may be bored but I will wrap this up quickly. I, in my 30’s, thought I was supposed to be doing something profound and important but I couldn’t because I was stuck at the house with small children. I thought there was no way I could make a difference. The message “Be my hands and feet” is simple yet profound. Wherever you are, no matter your circumstances, all you have to do is to do what Jesus would do if He were there. I never wondered again about my purpose.

Now here I am 20 years later. My children are grown. I can now see the fruit of my labor. It doesn’t feel like you are producing fruit when you are wiping booties, pouring juice, wiping more booties, making lunch, doing naptime, pouring more juice, etc. It just feels boring sometimes and a little lonely. Small kids are super cute but their conversation skills are a little lame. But hang in there. No matter where you are in life, the fruit of your labor will be slowly revealed. For the most part I am pretty proud of my fruit. My fruit is those 4 kids. It is my neighbors that I have shown kindness to. It is taking care of my mom when she was ill. It is the hundreds of small gestures of kindness that I have tried to show everyone on my path along the way as I ran errands and did tasks for my family.

So friends, if you think what you are doing doesn’t seem important enough, hang in there and keep doing your best to be Jesus’ hands and feet wherever you find yourself. The fruit may take 20 years to finish developing. I can’t make that go faster for you but I can recommend keeping a supply of Milano cookies hidden in an empty Quaker Oats container in the back of the pantry to help make the waiting bearable.

TaTa and a big hug to you today.

Cindy Magee

Cindy Magee

Cindy Magee is a wife, mother, and blogger living in Jackson, Tennessee. Married to her husband, David, for 31 years, they have four children, three boys and a girl.Two of their sons are married and their daughter is in college.

She writes about life, death, grief, and recovery.
Cindy Magee

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