A Dream That Included My Mother

My mother passed away seven years ago. Never once had I dreamed of her until last night....

In my dream, Mom was making omelets in a loosely put-together kitchen. Shredded cheese flew about, but she seemed not to care that she was making a mess. One of my daughters was trying to clean up with a vacuum cleaner and ultimately ate up a swath of shag carpet that measured ten feet long and one foot deep. Children were running about. I don't know where they came from; I didn't recognize any of them. My cell phone rang. The caller wanted to do an interview on my last book. He sounded sluggish; his questions were not relevant. I rudely encouraged him to call back when he had rational questions to ask.

What does this all mean? I have no idea. My mother never made an omelet. The only cheese she purchased was Velveeta. She did love children. My daughter is thorough about cleaning. I recently published a book.

Some believe our dreams have meanings. Mine make no sense at all--simply, a jumble of mixed memories.

I do know that most of my mother's time was spent in the kitchen. She served herself last--taking the driest part of the roast, the smallest piece of cake. Our clothes were always clean and pressed; our shoes shined. We had swimming lessons and piano lessons. I could only begin to imagine her sacrifices after having children of my own.

Proverbs 31 speaks of a woman who gets up while it is still dark to provide for her family, a woman who considers a field and buys it, a woman who plants a vineyard, a woman whose arms are strong for her tasks, .... a woman who opens her arms to the poor and extends her hands to the needy. It ends with Charm is deceptive, beauty is fleeting, but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised.

My mother's birthday would have been this week. She feared the LORD and was worthy to be praised.

I don't think it matters what your dreams mean or don't mean.
What matters is in your heart.