Snowman

 

“Come now, let’s settle this,” says the Lord. “Though your sins are like scarlet, I will make them as white as snow. Though they are red like crimson, I will make them as white as wool.” (Isaiah 1:18, New Living Translation)      

I’ve had trouble sleeping for years. Some nights, I can curl up in bed and drift right off to sleep. Other nights, ping pong balls are bouncing all over in my head, and as much as I try to imagine them falling to the floor and rolling under a piece of furniture to never be heard from again, they don’t stop.

           A year or two ago, I added the app for Turning Point with Dr. David Jeremiah to my phone. He gives some good sermons. So after lying in bed getting more frustrated instead of relaxing, I’ll pull up one of his messages, and I usually drift off before it’s over. Perhaps not what any pastor wants to hear, but if it helps someone in any way, that should be a win.

          The last two weeks, as you can imagine, I haven’t been sleeping much. Sometimes a sleeping pill helps, sometimes it doesn’t. Several times, I’ve turned on David Jeremiah, and more times than not, I will fall asleep.

          On the first of September, he started a sermon series on Joseph, the one who had eleven brothers who were jealous of him and threw him into a well. The guy whose father gave him the multi-colored coat. He was also able to interpret dreams.

          The other night, I fell asleep to this opening message on Joseph. And I had a dream.

          In my dream, I was building a snowman. The snow on the ground all around me was melting and full of dirt, but somehow my snowman was white as - well, white as snow. I hadn’t finished giving it a face when my snowman tipped over onto the dirty ground. It didn’t fall apart, though, and it stayed pure white.

          I woke up wondering what that was all about.

          Then I remembered about Joseph being able to interpret dreams. And I heard God’s voice say to me, “You can interpret this dream.”

          So, in my dream, my sweet, precious daughter was the snowman. Even though the snow was pure and white, my daughter wasn’t always that way. She had a whole lot of impurities in her words and actions. Yet, there she was, pure and white but not completely finished.

          And then she fell over and left me. She didn’t break, and she didn’t get covered in dirt. She just left me, peacefully and wholly. Maybe even holy. Left to be with those angels all dressed in white. And with a finished face, one that was smiling.