Sunday, November 30, 2008

Singing in my Sleep


It's far too early to be up on a Sunday morning; much much to early to be on the computer.

There is that in-between time, when sleep gradually recedes and the world gently intrudes upon dreamland (that is, on the mornings when an alarm clock doesn't rudely shock me awake). I often find myself singing in that twilight, in my head (although I've been told I sing out loud in my sleep).

This morning I came out of another dream of New Zealand. I hold this place so close in my heart, my other home. And in this dream I walked through the doors of St. Andrew's of a Sunday morning, the service had already started. My companion and I had just sat down when Kim rose to welcome the faith family and then ask, "Do we have any visitors today?" I put up my hand, he asked "Where are you from?" and I replied, "Canada" and then I felt his arms around me giving me a tremendous hug. And the tears were rolling down my face, and they are now as I typed. I miss you all so much.

And in my dream I began to sing the song you taught me, and have sung so many times since then. I've sung it in praise and in anger, in acceptance and defiance, in hope and in despair. It's my anchor that keeps me steady.

To every good thing God is doing within me
that I cannot see, Amen.
And to the healing virtue of Jesus
that's flowing in me, Amen.
For ev'ery hope that is still just a dream,
by trusting in you, Lord, becomes reality.
I stake my claim, seal it in faith.
I say Amen.

Amen, amen.
So be it Lord, your word endures.
I say Amen

Amen, amen.
So be it Lord. Amen.

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