Dreaming of lost worlds...

I dream in glorious Technicolor and surround sound, which is not a good thing if you have a nightmare, and the topics of my dreams are always bizarre. G always says I could write a book based on my dreams and make a killing.... Maybe I should give it a go... anyway!

My dream last night was another weird one. There's a park near to where we used to live that has an old-age home on corner. I dreamt that someone was building a special driveway/ road past it so that tour buses could get easy access to and from the old age home, and this road was built partway across the park area. However, this was no ordinary road! More on that later.

Earlier in the dream, I had dreamt that, somehow, my kids and I had been whisked away into an alternative world, a world that twins our own, but where everyone there is slightly different to who they are here on earth. That in itself was bizarre and disconcerting - meeting people you know and love only to find they're not quite the same. However, the worst part was that when I returned to earth, I couldn't take Nellie with me. She had to remain behind. Besides the heart-wrenching fear of leaving her with people I wasn't entirely comfortable with (after all, they weren't quite themselves and I didn't know whether they would harm her or not), there was the gut-wrenching grief at saying goodbye and never being able to see my precious little girl again.

Back in the "real" world, in my dream, it was no longer Nellie who had been left behind, but Nathan. (I don't know why dreams switch things round like that....) I therefore had to take his car-seat out of my car (I wasn't going to need it anymore) and leave it with the relatives who, in the twin world, would be looking after him. Somehow, the relatives in the twin world would be able to access themselves in the "real" world and so would be able to get hold of the car seat. (I told you it was bizarre.) Again, facing the reality that I would never see my precious little boy again was awful to say the least.

But back to the old age home... I was walking across the park with an ex-colleague, someone I haven't seen since I stopped working at that school, when I noticed the road being built. I stopped to observe. One of the workers was holding some kind of electrical device in his hands, when I heard him comment that the device was picking up some sort of interference. I stepped closer. Then it struck me - somehow, impossibly, the road was acting as a gate-way to the twinned world, and the kids (now it was BOTH Nellie and Nathan) were being allowed to come home.

Naturally, I started yelling and screaming, and running to the road, but I woke up before the kids actually arrived. Typical. Go through all that heart ache but then be unable to have it fully resolved before waking up.

Dreaming big

I need some help here. (Yes, yes, okay peanut gallery. I'm being serious here.)

I know that God gives us dreams and visions for our lives (not just dreams while we're asleep, although he can do that too). So my question is, how do you know the difference between a dream birthed in you by God, and one birthed by your own desires?

I have a dream, one that I have had since I was about 9 or 10. It requires skills and gifts that I believe I have. It's something I believe that God birthed in me, but every time I've thought he was finally moving me forward towards fulfilling it, it hasn't worked out.

During the morning sermon this past Sunday, the preacher mentioned that God gives dreams and visions as a creative force. It's not just about showing us what his plans and purposes are for us. It's also about birthing hope in us, giving us something that will stretch us and give us something to work towards.

In my case, that has certainly proved true. This dream, or vision, has stretched me tremendously - this most recent time I think to the point of breaking. In fact, it feels like this last time I was stretched beyond the point of breaking, because now I have HUGE doubts about this dream. As I reflect on my past, I honestly don't know whether this dream is just a fabrication of my own desires, or one God has given me.

I need some answers. I don't know what to think. I'm not sure how to proceed. This vision burns like a fire in my heart. I have tried to ignore it, but I can't. The yearning in me simply won't abate or go away. I can ignore it for a while, but every time I just think I'm getting the hang of ignoring it, something comes along to remind me that it's still there. The minute I start to think about it again, it's there with the same intensity as before. I know I have the gift to achieve it, but now seems not to be the time or place.

For one thing, I'm not where I believe I need to be as a minimum in terms of my relationship with God to be able to even consider fulfilling my dream. I know that God alone has the ability to decide when someone is 'ready' to move forward in achieving the vision he gives. I know that I'm ALWAYS unworthy, but that God may choose to use me irrespective of that, because that way he gets the glory. Yet, I still don't believe that God would chose to use me until certain minimums are restored.

In addition, I don't see how, or rather, when, in my current situation, my gifts could be used, or my dream could be realised. Again, I know that God is able to work despite situations and circumstances, yet I still don't think it's going to happen in the current set-up because that would seem to violate God's other priorities in my life.

So I am thoroughly frustrated and confused. Thus, I want to know - how do you know? How do I know FOR SURE whether this dream is from God, or from my own heart?

The sense of loss and emptiness that comes from this dream being unfulfilled is overwhelming at times. I don't want to give up on it, but in order to stay sane, I feel I have to. If I knew FOR SURE that this dream was just from my heart, then letting go of it would be easier to do.

I could really use the advice of wiser, more experienced Christians right now. I could also really use the prayers of any who do so, that I could find the answers I need, not the ones I necessarily want.

2010

I can't believe that 2010 has arrived. Finally.

Looking back over 2009, it's been a huge year for us: renovating our house and moving into it, and Nathan's birth (and being on maternity leave putting us in serious financial difficulty).

Graeme and I are both exhausted - phyiscally and emotionally. We couldn't go away for a holiday this Christmas, and we're feeling it now. We need to be kid-free for a day or two to rest and get some sleep, but that's not going to happen so I guess we just bite the bullet and get on with it.

Financially it's been a really tough year, with massive credit card debt as a consequence. We've just about cleared the debt though, so by the end of January we should be back on track, I hope.

The house still has lots of small things that need to get finished off after our renovations, but we're just too tired to do them ourselves, and too broke to hire someone to do them. I've been in the garden a heck of a lot these holidays, trying to reconstruct our front garden. I'm getting there, but it's a very, very, very laborious process. My back is very sore from digging up grass.(NEVER plant grass unless you're ABSOLUTELY SURE you will NEVER need to take it out again... particularly kikuyu.) My hands are blistered and scratched and I've removed countless thorns...

However, as tired as I am, and as old as I feel, there is much to give thanks for from 2009:

• We formally joined a church community.
• We have a wonderful house (even if it is cluttered and doesn't look very "grown up").
• Nathan was born alive and well, and is growing beautifully.
• Nellie is growing into an incredible little girl.
• We are surrounded by family who love us.

My hopes and dreams for 2010?

1) I want to be more organised, so that I can have more time with Graeme and my kids.
2) I want to drop down at least half a dress size, but preferably a full dress size. This will involve more effort than I'm keen on giving, but if I want to stop feeling so negative about myself, then I'm going to have to do something significant about it.
3) I want to start having regular times with God again, as opposed to the ad hoc, sporadic meetings we're having at the moment.
4) I want to start giving back to the community in service in some way.

I'm looking forward to this year, but at the same time, part of me is already sighing because work is always so busy and I'm already tired. Two things that would really help? If my mother moved back this side of the boerwors curtain and if my kids' nanny learnt to drive. So, inbetween trying to reorganise my schedule to include exercise classes and other exercise, and the usual manic-ness of the first term, I'm going to try to help my nanny get her learner's and then teach her to drive. At least that's something I CAN do something about!

May 2010 be a good year for all of you. May this year give you what you need, rather than what you want. May it teach you the true priorities in life and give you the skills/ ability to put first things first and to priortise the important over the urgent.

If you hear less of me this year, it will be because I'm trying to do just that - to prioritise my kids and my family over my love of web 2.0 stuff. As much as I love you guys, and as much as I love this place and space, my kids are only little and small once. Love to you all.

Dreaming

When I dream, it is in glorious technicolour, surround sound and HD 3D. Last night was no exception. I dreamt about a group of people I as travelling with. One night, while in a restaurant, two women started arguing about something. As I was dreaming I "realised" that my dream was actually a story that someone was reading to me, and the images I was seeing was my dream. As the person was reading to me, they described how these two women's voices changed as they argued, until they had both revealed they were both cats (in human skins... think Men in Black style) caterwauling and clawing at each other.

At which point, my son woke up in the other room, and thus, so did I.

I was really disappointed, cos I wanted to know how the story ends... I hate not finishing a book I'm reading, or that's being read to me!!

Sigh! Oh well. The best I can hope for is that (since I do occasionally have a dream repeat on me) this one will be repeated at some point so I can finish the book, even if it is a dream book.

Go on - I dare you: interpret this dream!

As some of you know, I dream in glorious technicolour and surround sound, but my dreams are always.... a little off the wall, crazy, weird, bizarre, insane. This past week, I overheard a brief interview on radio with a dream therapist, and it got me thinking again about interpreting some of the stuff I dream (I should actually use my dreams to write a book - no end of really great story lines that would keep readers guessing till the final pages!).

So, go on, I dare you! Have a go at interpreting this one...

G and I have hired a black taxi* driven by a WHITE guy in order to run some errands. We're sitting in the front, with the driver. Nellie is in the back, with another family member (who keeps switching from one of my brothers to one of G's). There is no dashboard, and no front to the taxi. Every time the driver brakes, particularly when he brakes hard (which is most of the time) I (and sometimes both G and I) fall out the front of the van. Usually I manage to hang on to the two sides of the car to stop myself being scraped on the ground or going under the van. Usually G manages to lean over, grab hold of my clothing and pull me back in immediately.

Of course, this dream makes no rational sense:

1) I would never travel in a black taxi. Firstly, I have a car, and if I need a car there are hoards of relatives I could borrow a car from. Secondly, they are just WAY too dangerous & I love my life too much (selfish individual that I am).

2) I would absolutely NEVER put Janel in one!

3) This one is driven by a white guy - something I have not yet seen in real life.

4) But the most ridiculous fact is that this one has no front. In no universe would I EVER get into the FRONT of a vehicle driven by a maniac like that when it had no front, and even more so, if I were enough of a lunatic to do that, I would not get in and FAIL to wear a seat-belt.

So, go on - give it your best shot. What's going on in my head???

*In SA a black taxi is a white MPV van that can legally carry 10 adults but frequently takes at least 16, with a gatje (a guy who sits and calls the route or destination out of the window and takes your money when you get in), is usually unroadworthy, driven by a guy with no licence, and who therefore never obeys any of the rules of the road.

Mysteries from Isaiah

A few years back now, I investigated a call to ordained ministry that I have felt pretty much all my life. I can remember, even back in primary school, feeling that all I really wanted to do with my life was preach and teach. However, since in those days women were not allowed to be ministers, I gave up on the idea and pursued a career in teaching.

With the emancipation of women though, it was really only a matter of time before the church recognised that women are able to be ordained ministers too. (I don't want to debate whether there should be male headship right now - that's a WHOLE other issue.) As sentiments changed, and as the Church recognised that God created men and women equal, women have continued their fight for emancipation within the formal structures of the various denominations.

So as I said, a few years back, I felt God prompt me to take this most precious and secret desire of my heart, and lay it on the altar. At the time, I was surrounded by several very wise people, who all supported me in my voyage of discovery. Obviously, I was unsuccessful. That blow knocked my faith in a way that only Zoe's death has surpassed, and that is part of the reason that I have struggled so deeply with my faith.

Anyway, I share all of that as background information, really. The passage that has been so dear to my heart, for more years than I can remember, and that I believe God has used as his call on my life is Isaiah 61:

¹ The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is on me,
because the LORD has anointed me
to preach good news to the poor.
He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim freedom for the captives
and release from darkness for the prisoners,
to proclaim the year of the LORD's favor
and the day of vengeance of our God,
to comfort all who mourn,

³ and provide for those who grieve in Zion—
to bestow on them a crown of beauty
instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness
instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise
instead of a spirit of despair.
They will be called oaks of righteousness,
a planting of the LORD
for the display of his splendor.

⁴ They will rebuild the ancient ruins
and restore the places long devastated;
they will renew the ruined cities
that have been devastated for generations.

⁵ Aliens will shepherd your flocks;
foreigners will work your fields and vineyards.

⁶ And you will be called priests of the LORD,
you will be named ministers of our God.
You will feed on the wealth of nations,
and in their riches you will boast.

As Graeme and I have been searching for a church family to join, I have been reflecting on this call, because if the call is still valid, then we would have to join a church that recognises women's ministry in the pulpit (not as an adjunct to her husband's, but in its own right). My heart's desire is still to preach, although I recognise that I'm not in the best position to do so right at the moment, nor will I be for a while yet I suspect. I have been reflecting on this passage again, wondering whether I misunderstood it, or whether I merely got the timing/ place wrong.

Last night, G and I shared our story about this journey, and about Zoe, and everything in between, with our new home group. With Tues being Zoe's 2nd anniversary, (can it really have been so long ago already? It still feels like only recently that she was here and gone...) and with only 11 weeks to go till induction, these next few weeks have the potential to be quite a bumpy ride for us, and for me in particular. We know that we are going to need their support and prayers in this time, and in order for them to pray effectively, knowing our story is a massive help.

The group immediately offered to pray for us, which we accepted. During that prayer time, the Is. passage came up. I hadn't shared about how precious this passage is to me, so I know it wasn't because of that. It's not the first time in the past month that this passage has come up either. While I know that it's a popular passage, it does rather seem that God is gently bringing this passage back into focus for me.

Why? I'm not sure. Maybe the ultimate reason that ordination didn't happen in the UK is because it was meant to happen here. Maybe it's because God's calling, while a call to preach, is not to ordained ministry, but to a lay preaching ministry. All I know for sure is that God's got plans for me - that much I can sense. Quite how those plans will come together remains a mystery to me.

One the one hand, that mystery excites me, because it feels a bit like going on a treasure hunt. On the other hand, it terrifies me, because I'm not sure I really want to walk in the dark, and hand over this heart's desire once again, just to see it destroyed again.

But then I read through the passage again... wouldn't it be so exciting if I really got to DO all that stuff?!?!?! Oh, I hope it happens... I really hope it does! I want my epitaph to say that I made a difference; that the world is a better place not just because I was in it, but because through me, God's shalom was realised on this small piece of earth I inhabit.

V for Vendetta

You can tell holidays have started - not only have I read a book, but I've watched a movie too!

V for Vendetta is a very interesting movie, posing very interesting questions. The story is set in the UK in the future, when a Hitler style regime (Conservative party, wouldn't you know it?!!) is in power. One man, known only as V, and always masked, seeks to overthrow the government of the day, and takes as his model Guy Fawkes and the events around the 5th November.

V makes several very intriguing comments - about the nature of ideas and freedom, and about whose responsibility it is to protect freedom. Maybe because I'd just finished reading 'The Shack', which also deals with the nature of freedom, I was viewing it in a very different light, I'm not sure.

During the course of the story, V, who is initially portrayed as a hero, perpetrates several atrocities, some as a form of justice for atrocities perpetrated against the innocent, some in the name of creating freedom for others.

For me, given the current political climate in SA (where the president has sacked the national director of public prosecutions for very dubious reasons... and the speculation is that the actual reasons include being able to appoint someone who will not continue to prosecute Jacob Zuma, thereby smoothing his way into the presidential office), there were a lot of similarities between V's actions and those of the ANC in the Apartheid era. Yet, this in turn raises the question of whether violence is ever justified. Yes, the ANC did push the SA government of the day to the point where democracy became the only option. But at what cost?

The Hitler-esque party leaders are assassinated, which enables the general populace to experience a peaceful end to their nightmare. The similarities to the situation in Zim were inescapable. Would it be right for someone to assassinate Mugabe and his cronies, in the name of protecting the freedom and peace of the nation? Again, is there ever a situation in which violent means to a peaceful solution are justified?

Despite my portrayal of it, this is not a 'heavy' movie. It has its moments, but it's actually a very human movie, with your usual love stories and humour thrown in for good measure. But the dialogue is fast-paced and deep, so not a movie to watch when you're tired, or you'll miss a great deal! Definitely to be recommended.

Thinking back

Having been off-line for a week, I've been doing a lot of catch-up reading of my favourite blogs and the SANDS site. I guess that, plus the fact that it's half term so everyone is away, has made the last day or two tough. While people have been lovely and said to ring whenever I need to, when I do it seems they're always too busy or have already made other plans, or whatever. (Sarah & Sue - this doesn't apply to you!! You have both been amazing at making time for me.)

So I've been quite lonely this week, with lots of time to think. And I've been thinking back over Zoe's last few days and her birth. I was just remembering how, that first night, I couldn't sleep. I was more exhausted than I've ever been in my life. I was so tired I was literally falling asleep while talking to people! Yet, once I'd handed Zoe over for the night I just couldn't sleep. (The warm temperatures in the delivery rooms meant that her body would degrade quickly if she'd spent the night in the room with us, and if we wanted an autopsy we needed to preserve her body as best we could.) I would fall asleep and then wake up with a massive start 30 minutes later, thinking that surely it was time for a feed, or that she'd fallen off the bed, or that I'd rolled onto her, or that she'd stopped breathing in her cot. Then I'd remember that she was dead. But I was too tired to cry anymore and I'd fall asleep again before I could grieve, only to be haunted by horrible nightmares. And then wake up to repeat the process again.

It was the worst night of my life. Without a doubt.

I'm sleeping much better these days. No more nightmares (for which I'm eternally grateful). Although I've always had weird dreams, since Zoe's death my dreams have taken on some other sort of quality. Now they always seem to involve a major crisis in which I'm helpless to effect any change. This morning's one was about one of my favourite trees from my childhood - a Jacaranda that we had growing in the back garden. It was one of those perfect climbing trees because it had a branch low enough to climb up, plus it's branches were wide enough and flat enough to sit on comfortably. I loved that tree.

Anyway, in my dream it was 600 years old (not true) and its branches had grown so long they stretched over the neighbours' walls and were threatening to break the walls. Plus my mother said it was now so big it destroyed the view she had from the upstairs bedroom window. It had to go. I was desperately trying to think of ways to save it, from just removing certain branches to not touching it at all, but no-one was listening. Even Graeme's parents got involved and said it had to go. (In my dream Peter had even written a book about it needing to go, with the chapters written alternately in English and Afrikaans!! When I told G about it, he laughed and said it definitely had to be a dream, given how poor his father's Afrikaans is.)

The conclusion of the dream is that I didn't save the tree. Just like I didn't save Zoe. That's always how my dreams seem to end at the moment. Whatever the crisis is, I fail to resolve it. The comfort I take is that at least these are just dreams. I'm not the failure my dreams make me out to be.

One woman posted on SANDS this morning to tell how her midwife failed to pick up on a very treatable condition she developed during pregnancy. Her liver stopped working properly, and so toxins built up in her system and poisoned her baby. How awful. How awful to know that her baby would be alive and healthy if her midwife had done her job properly. Even if I do have APS/ Hughes' syndrome and that caused Zoe's death, at least I can't blame the medics around me of negligence.