The Free Gift Of Food

Another dream…


In this one,
I am a single woman in her mid thirty’s or so,
In a group of maybe fifty or so people.
In my other life, (when things were normal,)
I used to be a nurse/caregiver/systems administrator of some kind,
Or at least in that kind of field.

But that life had passed, and now survival was what was most important.

Our little group was isolated somehow,
The weather was temperate, and the sun seemed to be always shining.
We had water to drink, but no food.

People were fighting and killing each other,
Over just the thought of a tiny scrap of food.

Seeing this, caused anger to well up from within me,
For I knew it was unnecessary and a complete waste.

I tried to stop them from bickering,
But no one would listen to me.

So, disgusted, I turned and left the group,
Grabbed a small hand shovel, a gun, some bowls, and a flat gardening cart,
And went off a short ways and began to pray to Jesus.

The Holy Spirit soon led me to a place not too far,
Where the ground still had some vegetation growing from it,
And as I prayed, the Holy Spirit led me to pull up some of the vegetation.
He blessed me with potatoes and carrots.

I cooked them, divided them into individual servings,
A half of a potato, and a small baby carrot sitting on top of it, sat in each bowl.
I filled up the bowls and the cart the best I could,
And with one hand I pulled the cart towards the group of fighting people, and with the other, I held a bright silvery shiny hand gun.

They smelled the food first, and came towards me,
With crazed eyes and open mouths.

The closest ones were about to fall upon the cart and eat everything on it,
When I pointed my gun on them, and told them that I would shoot them if they did.

This caused them to pause. I could tell what they were thinking; was her gun really loaded? Would she really shoot me if it was?

I then told them that there was enough food for everyone,
But that we all had to take our turns eating, and that the children and those weakest,
Would eat first.

They argued with me, claiming there was not that many bowls on the cart to feed everyone. But I told them that there was more where that came from, and that they would simply have to trust me, or face my gun.

Others upon hearing this, (especially the men who had children,) helped to keep everyone there under control, which allowed me to distribute the food on the cart to the mother’s first, making sure they gave it to their children and not themselves, and then giving it to those too weak to move.

I then went back and made more of the potatoes and carrots, and I even found and added in a spoonful of some kind of milk or creamer, with a sprinkling of some kind of dried seasoning (parsley?) on top. The people mashed them all together, till it smelled and tasted like mashed potatoes.

I kept doing this, till everyone had eaten. I then ate some myself.

This caused some to be upset, and claimed that I must have eaten a double portion.
But I told them that I had not yet eaten, so they let me eat a serving myself.

This process took the whole day.

This became a routine for me; I got up in the morning, gave thanks and praise to my God Jesus, went to where He led me, pulled up the roots that he told me to grab a hold of, and then baked the carrots and potatoes, and sprinkled more of the powder on it, and gave it to all to eat.

There were times when I would give my portion to someone else who needed it more, and this caused others around me to become distrustful of me. So the group made sure that there was always an assistant with me. I thought it was to help me, but in reality, it was to make sure I wasn’t eating more than my fare share.

I remember telling one of these helpers, a girl a bit younger than I, that I found it ironic, that in my other life, I had been overweight, and had tried so very hard to loose weight, but could not, and that it was this extra weight that had allowed me to survive for so long.

The helpers lost interest, when they realized that I was not stealing extra food, and that I was indeed telling the truth.

Before I gave the food to the people, I would ask them to please join hands, and then I’d lead them in prayer, thanking Jesus for the food, and then blessing it. This was not always easy, as they all gathered themselves on the long rows of picnic benches to eat, and those farther away could not hear me speak.

Those who were closer to me, quickly complied, but those farther away from me, (ones who had trouble hearing me,) did not. This bothered me, but I didn’t know what else I could do to make them comply. I had decided that all my prayers to Jesus, would be out loud for anyone to hear, and in this way, I would be a living example of my faith in Christ. I figured that seeing this, others too, would be drawn to Christ.

But so far it wasn’t working out that way.
There was just one of my assistants, who at my insistence, tried to pray to Jesus and then listen to the Holy Spirit, while searching for food, but she kept pulling up weeds and soon gave up.

Our group of people kept slowly growing and growing, as more people would stumble into our camp. Most who did, were too weak to do anything except accept the free gift of food given to them in grateful astonishment.

Until one day, a young man, a stranger to our group, stumbled upon me digging up the food from the ground. I could tell he had journeyed long, and he was crazed from lack of food. I tried to promise him that he would get some of the food, but he refused to even listen to me. I pulled out my gun, (still always kept by my side,) but even the sight of this did not stop him. He pulled out a knife and ran towards me. I shot him in self defense, hoping the bullet would slow but not kill him. But he had also managed to injure me, before the others had arrived. They quickly overpowered the young man, and disarmed him. They then tended to our wounds. 

I could hear some of them talking to the new guy, telling him how wrong he was, and that I would have defended his right to eat with my own life. I could hear the disgust in their voices, as they confronted his disbelief. His fighting was ‘such a waste’, as they put it. The man could hardly take in what was being told to him. So, many of the other newer members of our group, came to him to share with him how I had given each of them, a stranger, free food. He simply couldn’t believe it all. Why would the woman so freely give to him?

I had wanted to speak up, and tell him that it was because of Jesus, but I found I could not, due to my injury.

I heard them then, tell the man, that it was simply what I did, and that that was the way I was.

My heart ached then, hearing this. What happened to Jesus? Did these people really think that it was all me and not God? I heard a moaning sound of grief, and realized it must have come from me. Another more specialized in first aid suddenly turned and came up to me to examine me closer. When she spoke, her voice sounded very concerned. “Guys…she needs help! Hey! I need help here!”

It was the last thing I heard before loosing consciousness.
I then woke up.
*  *  *  *

Further Down The Line

A dream…

I am a young mother, in my mid to late twenties, with shoulder length maybe longer, wavy/curly black hair. I’ve been married to one man for about three years or so,
And we have one sweet little girl, less than two years old.

The weather is brisk, as it is getting closer to nightfall, so I had dressed my daughter in one of those cute little white and blue colored bear onesie sleepers, with the fake fabric ears sewed on top of the drawstring hood, and fake paw prints printed on the plastic footed booties, and fold-over hand covers.

People everywhere were gathering; all walking towards the signs that promised “free food”, and following the arrows pointing them towards the waiting lines. We followed along with the crowd, as the guideline rails that had quickly been put in place
Began to narrow further, till they were the width of only about four people wide.

Some of the people dropped and could go no further, for they had gone without food for a long time. Most however, made their way into the long lines of waiting people, in the hopes that they would be fed soon.

As the line slowly moved forward, We found that the barriers alongside us, became metal poles and fencing, funneling the people into one direction. At one point, some of the people decided they didn’t want to be forced to go in one direction, but when they turned to go back, they found armed officers of some kind, (claiming to try and keep the peace,) pulling out their guns, and ordering those people to keep moving forward.

Some moved back into the line, But there were those who refused, and still fought to be free. They were shot and killed.

This changed the mood of the people watching the exchange, and they started to ask more questions. “Is there even any food to be had? Or is this just a scam?”

The officers said that they would indeed receive food, but that they just had to keep moving along in the line. Others then asked “When will we be able to eat?” But that question wasn’t really answered. The only thing they would say is: “When you’re further down the line.”

At this point, there was another group of people jostling and fighting, and the guards quickly pressed the crowd apart into two different lines that funneled apart from each other. They then shot those who were resisting. Their bodies lay on the ground, and those behind had to walk around them. Those that refused to move forward and instead stayed behind to mourn their deaths, were also shot. Some who were shot, were still alive, and were crying out in pain, asking for help. These people were shot again, (this time through the head up close,) effectively silencing them. 

My arms had weakened, from carrying my little one for so long, so I had given her over to her father to hold for a while. She was such a sweet baby, seemingly content with the little that my body could give her. She was a spot of sunshine in our lives, and I thanked Jesus for her frequently.

Now, suddenly, to my great distress, I found myself being pushed forward, and separated from my family. The armed gunmen divided us up as if we were cattle, without regards to family ties. I tried to say something to one of the gunmen, but he looked right through me. I looked at my husband still holding my child in the other line, and as our eyes met, I could see the desperation, love, and hopelessness, within me reflected in his. 

We were given no time to say goodbye. The line with my husband and child moved forward with a surge, and my eyes followed them till they disappeared from my view.

My grief was overwhelming. I thought of never being able to see my baby’s sweet face again, and I wanted to die. What value was there in living now? As the line I was in began to move forward once again, I knew I could simply cause a struggle, and I would soon be shot, putting myself out of my misery. But something kept me from doing so. Then that  voice within, told me that He still needed me, and that I was to keep moving forward, despite my grief. He told me that He still had work for me to do for Him. I wondered how I could be of any use to Him with this grief, but His voice within me was insistent.

So I stumbled forward with the rest of the crowd, without much will or strength left, till we found ourselves herded into a long dark metal box. They packed us into this container tightly, leaving no room to spare, and then swung the door shut, locking us in.

The container was then lifted by a crane, onto a ship of some kind. We heard the sound of the boats engine shuddering to life, and felt the rocking motion of the boat upon the water. I spent hours upon hours in that darkness, with heat, bodies, and the stench of urine and feces around me. Then our container was lifted up in the air again, and was deposited on solid land. Shortly after, the doors swung open.

A gray light filtered through to where I was still standing. People rushed forward, almost falling out of the box. Those that had died along the journey now fell to the floor, and the others stumbled over them to reach the door.

As I moved forward, I could see that it was day, but there was no sunshine, just pouring rain. All around was dark, dreary, and gray. A group of people, larger than ours, stood off to one side, huddled under a corrugated metal overhang, silently watching. We stumbled towards them, as the foreign-looking gunmen, speaking in a strange language I did not know, pointed their guns in this direction. But their guns seemed out of place, for no one fought anymore. Resistance had already been removed from us.

I could see that our box had been placed next to some other boxes, and that they were actually overseas shipping containers, the kind that had filled up the ports and stockyards of the USA to overflowing. Foreign countries overseas had used them to ship goods and products over to America. Now I sensed that they were being returned to their owners, filled to the brim with American slaves. I knew then, that I would never set foot upon my beloved homeland again.    

Just then, a high-pitched squeal filled with happiness and delight, sounding so out of place, rang out into the cement courtyard. I looked up and could see a tiny figure struggle to be free from being held, dressed in blue and white, break from the others and run towards me. My heart pounded with recognition, but I found I was afraid to hope. Was it really my little baby bear? Joy filled my heart and tears flooded my eyes as I listened to my baby’s distinctive voice cry out “Me ma me ma me ma,” as her little feet pounded the pavement. She ran into my arms and we embraced. My mate then came up to me as well with tears in his eyes, and hugged us both. “Thank you Jesus!” I whispered under my breath, as I embraced my family once again. 

I then woke up from the dream.

The Versatile Blogger Award



Thank You  to Bird at for giving me the Versatile Blogger Award! I am very honored in recieving this award, especially since my blog is just a few months old.

In accepting this award,these are some rules I have to follow:
1. Nominate 15 fellow bloggers who are relatively new to blogging (or whose blogs you enjoy most).
2. Let them know that you nominated them.
3. Share 7 random facts about yourself.
4. Thank the blogger who nominated you.
5. Add the Versatile Blogger Award to your blog post.

So here are 7 random facts about me:

1.  The lord has given me a heart for marriage. By the grace of God alone, me and my husband have been married to each other for over twenty five years. I love to see ‘happily-ever-after’ endings in everyone elses marriage, too.

2. When the Lord first told me I was to home school my children, I broke out laughing and told Him He was crazy. I soon repented of those words and obeyed.  

3. I have been listening (and singing along) to this song for the past week. I awake to it, and I fall asleep to it. For me at this time, it is where I am. So as the song’s lyrics say,  “while in my storm I’ll boldly proclaim…”
(‘It Is Well’, by Mary Mary, from their ‘Something Big’ CD.)

4. My favorite scripture when I was a child, was “Do this in rememberance of Me” Luke 22:19. 
When my husband and I renewed our wedding vows, it was “with God all things are possible.” Matthew 19:26.
Now, it is “Trust in the Lord with all your heart…” Proverbs 3:5.

5. Doctors once told me that I was infertile and could not have any children. Years (and several children) later, doctors also told me I had less than six months to live. Since then, (several years later,) I have switched to ‘The Great Physician’ as being my primary care provider. 

6. I have three favorite T-shirts. One reads ‘Careful, or you’ll end up in my novel.’, another says ‘Prayer – The world’s greatest wireless connection.’, and the third claims ‘I am the wretch the song refers to…’. The next T-shirt on my list to buy, is one that says ‘God can’t do what?!’, with two people doubled over in laughter.  

7. The title of the latest music CD I purchased for myself, was ‘What If We Were Real’, by Mandisa. 

Now for the 15 Bloggers that I enjoy reading:















 (Oh yes, I forgot to mention… if you see your blog listed above, YOU have recieved The Versatile Blogger Award! To accept it, do a screen capture of the award button, paste it into your blog post form, and follow the 5 rules listed above…)

Blessings, C. Dunamis