Friday, October 15, 2010


I had a dream...

It was about my sister's death. This may be troubling to some and may feel extremely personal.

They may feel like trying to solve it, but the dream itself speaks volumes about that exact desire.

I wonder how many have dreamt or felt this exact way in their own lives when the inexplicable happens.

I awaken in my dream.

I am holding my mother in a hug around the shoulders as she cries, lying in my lap. My dad is not crying. We're surrounded by many, many people we know quite well, but no specific faces. My other siblings are not present.

In the middle of the room is my sister's body laid out in burial fashion - hands folded, lying on her back, but she has been dead quite some time. Only her face is covered with a white sheet. It's like a second funeral. The reason for her death has not been resolved. No one is mourning her, they're just trying to figure out why. They are not crying, only us.

A pastor speaks, and I feel daggers being forged in my heart and wishing them into his. A figure of spiritual guidance and comfort, I feel hostility and offense toward this man. My exact thought is, "He has no idea what he's talking about. He knows no more than anyone else here. He is merely human."

It feels like a forum. A brainstorming session. Everyone giving their opinion or reasoning as to why someone so young and vibrant would be gone/taken in an instant. They did care about her deeply, but seem so disconnected and distant now. It is simply a problem to be solved.

My dad seems to want to speak, but nothing comes out of his mouth when he opens it. As the arguing begins in earnest, my dad begins to cry.

Why now? I don't know.

I have a voice. It is caged. I speak, but no one listens. They can hear me, but they ignore me. "She's too young. She couldn't possibly understand."

Anger. Helplessness. Bone-deep sadness.


So many people stand together in a questioning choir before God.

The main refrain:


This dream has me reeling with the possible interpretations and ramifications to my faith.

The simple, single-lined marquee that scrolls across the blank screen of my mind is this:

You are never alone in your grief. Nobody else may understand your individual tragedy and pain, but they stand beside you, echoing the same painful cries, indiscernible by human ears.

Most importantly. There is one who holds the answers.

God hears each note of your soul-wrenching song and His eyes are not dry.

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