Dreaming

Last night after staying up far too late to watch tv, I crept into bed with my husband. I laid on my stomach and before even thinking, I slid my hand in between myself and the bed. There it was; what was left of my baby bump. I felt tears welling up in my eyes but immediately shook them off. I knew I couldn't let the sadness take over and fall asleep as I had so many times this month. Instead I let my mind think back to Quilly's memorial and the words that we found to read;
In the most beautiful of gardens, even those tended by the most skillful of botanists, there is an occasional rose that buds, but never opens. In all respects the rose is like all the others, but something keeps it from blooming. It fades away - or disappears - without having reached maturity.
What happens in nature's garden happens once in a while also in the garden of God's human family. A baby is born, beautiful, precious, but fails to come to its rightful unfolding. This child, like the bud that never fully opens, is gathered back into God's heavenly garden of souls - where all imperfections are made perfect; all injustices made right; all mysteries are explained; and all sorrows turned to happiness.
...All imperfections are made perfect and injustices made right. I thought repeatedly over that part of the passage and as I drifted off to sleep, I felt a sense of peace.

At 3:00 a.m. I shot out of bed and tried quickly to recount everything that I had just saw in my dream. This is the best that I can come up with...

I was standing, teetering really, uneasy on my feet at the bottom of a grand staircase. The top of the stairs disappeared into a cloudy mist. I could hear the faintest sound of music. I couldn't determine the song or why it was playing but I felt my body being pulled upward. I tripped and slipped past dozens of stairs until I reached the top. My face looked worrisome and my body tired as I stepped into what appeared to be a field. The instant the sun shine touched me, I felt refreshed. I looked upon the field and saw in the distance a figure waving fervently as I walked towards it.

The figure was that of a small boy...about age four. His eyes were so bright and beautiful- a dark shade of brown that I had never had the priviledge of seeing. They almost sparkled. His hair was a sandy brown and his frame was petite but chubby. As he smiled at me, I saw a tiny set of pearly white teeth with just the smallest hint of a gap between the two in the front. I felt him touch my hand and then he spoke to me saying only two words.. "See, Mom?"

That was it. I had finally met my son, Quilly. He looked so happy and dare I say, perfect. Not an ounce of worry on his face or physical handicap in sight.

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