Heaven’s Tour Bus

 

I dreamed that I boarded a tour bus, and I sat right up front so I could see everything up close.

First stop was at an enormous shopping mall. There were halls upon halls filled with little specialty stores. Each boutique was unique from the other, and displayed items from a place and time in history. Every place in the world had their own ‘wing’ of shopping stores, and each store represented a different time in its history. Every place and time was covered, from cave man to the future. Anything you desired could be had. All you had to do was ask the store clerk, and they then gave it to you.

The mall was crowded with many different people going in and out of the stores with their packages and purchases, each one smiling and enjoying themselves as they went about their business. But no one seen us or looked at us. It was as if we were invisible to them. They seen the tour guide angels, but they must have sensed that they were not alone, and so they stayed out of their way.

As I watched it all, my mind could hardly grasp all the choices before me. I knew it would take a lifetime to explore all the little stores. And oh, wouldn’t it be wonderful to explore them someday with my mother?

Just then, I seen someone walk by me, holding an old book open to their reading page, with a beautiful Celtic bookmark, hand-painted and stamped with gold leaf.

“Oh!” I exclaimed to my tour guide, “I’d like to have one of those!” And just then, someone else walked by from the other direction with a beautiful hair clip holding back her hair. It would be perfect for my friend. “And one of those,” I said. I turned to my guide. “Where is the store that has those?”

The guide told me it was in a different wing of the mall, and that we did not have time to go there on this tour. “Come,” the guide said to me, “we must go.”

“Wait!” I exclaimed, “couldn’t I just go into this store to get the bookmark? It’s right here in front of us.”

But the angel guide nearest to me shook its head no. “It will be delivered to you,” he said, and then we turned and got back into the tour bus.

After driving some distance, we suddenly came upon a valley as big as the Grand Canyon, with a cliff just as steep. The bus lurched out and downwards, and I screamed as I watched the earth come up to me. We tumbled, and then stopped for a moment, to see if everyone was still O.K.

Shaken but unharmed, we continued on into the depths of this valley, till we reached a small settlement of people, camped out by a big red rock. It was dry here, but pleasantly so, with the sun bright overhead, but without the searing heat. There was a light breeze blowing about, which made it a very pleasant day. Perfect picnic weather, I thought.

As I came closer, I could see the people walking about and going on about their business. They had trailer homes, propped up around each other, so they could all be together. Then, as I came close to one of them, one with a white sunshade propped up and out and a picnic table beneath it, my eyes caught a familiar sight and I stumbled.

“Is that my Father?” I whispered to the guide. I doubted it was, even though it looked exactly like him when he was in his twenties, for this man was laughing and smiling, something I had rarely seen my father do. He was talking and listening to the others around him tells him their stories, and him sharing his with them.

“Yes,” the angel answered me, “it is your father. But you must not stare at him, for that would cause him to notice you, and he is not to know right now that you are here.”

Oh! To turn my eyes away from his peaceful smiling face took everything I had in me. But I obeyed the angel, and looked away.

Our bus continued on again, and made it’s way to another grand canyon. When we came to the sharp drop again, I knew then what was in store for us, and I started to pray over and over again, “Oh my God oh my God oh my God!” till suddenly we were riding on the bottom of the canyon again. The angel must have seen the confusion on my face, for it explained to me, “this canyon is easier to access.”

This time, we rode on, till we came to a larger community, all green covered land, and mild temperatures, with little high-rises all around. Each rise, had everything that was needed in its building. The high rise was filled with people; many of them single women, all in the prime of their lives.

Then the tour guide talks to the building manager, and then the manager gives a nod, and leads us to a small room in one of the high rises. I enter and quietly look around.
The place reminded me of a laundry room, with washing machines lined up on one side of the room, while the other side had tables for one to sit upon and sort their laundry. I frowned in confusion, still not understanding. Why bring me here? I knew there must be something special about this room; I just wasn’t catching it.

Then I looked upwards to the wall and seen it.

My Mother’s cross-stitch. My mother’s ceramics. Her art work, up on the walls of the laundry room. I thought, “oh! How sweet of them to let my mother hang her work here!”
I looked closer, and seen there were several different small banners in cross-stitch, that had a date, name, and an emblem on it. Other ceramics that hung on the wall (bird, flower, bunny, dove, etc.,) was inscribed with a person’s name & date. There were several ones there with her name on it, among the other names on the wall. The manager told me the other names were Mom’s friends.

When I understood that, I looked around at the machines and wondered why heaven would even need washing machines. Then the angel stepped in and told me that these washing machines were different than the ones I knew of. These didn’t just clean dirt from clothes; they removed emotional stuff from things and cleaned it of all resentment, anger, bitterness, etc., anything that was un-Christ-like. An item could be put in the washer, and as a blinding white light would swirl in and around it, the person ‘washing their dirty laundry’, would sit at one of the tables and tell God all about their resentment, anger, bitterness, etc., and then leave those emotions with Him. The item associated with the ‘stuff’, then comes out clean and free of all ‘dirt’ and made new again.

My mother’s work, hanging on the walls, commemorated these events. Each piece of work had the person’s first name on it, along with the date. The last item on the banner or artwork was a symbol of what took the place of the ‘stuff’. The ceramics was the symbol itself, and had the person’s name etched into it, along with the date on the back of it.

How ironic! I had thought that God would somehow forcefully remove it (anger, resentment, etc.,) from a person, before letting them go through the gates of heaven. After all, I figured, why would God ever let such dirt into heaven? If He did, then it wouldn’t be heaven then anymore, would it?

But I was wrong. God does let it into heaven. He doesn’t forcefully remove it from the person. Instead, He waits for the person to get tired of the ‘dirt’ first, and then helps them to remove it. The tour guide told me that emotional ‘Dirt’ up in heaven, really stands out. It hinders the person’s joy in heaven, so one is naturally drawn to having it washed. When the spirit of God washes and purifies it, it enables them to let go of the negative emotions, which feels good and gives them more joy. All this takes place as commonly as we do our laundry down here on earth. (And mind you, unlike here, a person’s ‘stuff’ is seen as being quite separate from the people themselves!)

I was sitting on the bench and starring at my Mother’s work that hung upon the walls, when I seen my Mother walk in.

She was young and beautiful again, just like her pictures of when she was a young woman.

I quick looked at the angel again, to see if I could acknowledge her, and the angel nodded a yes.

Mom sat down beside me, and we turned to each other and held each other in our arms.
I was crying, and finding it hard to speak.

“Oh Mom,” I said, in a release of breath, “I’m so glad they’re letting me be with you!”
I wanted to tell her, all about my fears and second-guesses, of asking God to take her home to heaven, instead of having her hang on in pain down here. But in a sudden flash of realization, I sensed it wasn’t necessary, and that Mom fully understood and was glad that I had answered the way I had.

But then I found myself admitting something to her that I had not even voiced to myself down on earth. Something far deeper and uglier.

“Oh Mom,” I cried, still in her arms, “you want to know what’s really awful? If I had known just how hard and painful it would be for me without you, I would have never asked God to bring you to heaven!”

And at this, I cried more, and felt all my shame at this ugly truth revealed. I had expected her to turn away with disgust, once she realized how very self-centered and selfish I really was inside. (To think of keeping her here with me simply for my own comfort, even though it would cause her such pain!)

But she didn’t. She simply held me as I cried, and whispered words of comfort to me. “Sh, there, there, it’s O.K., I understand. It’s O.K.”

I stayed there, in her embrace; till I could feel some of her calm and peace blanket my own soul. I breathed a sigh of relief, as the last sobs racking my body faded away.
Then I looked up, to see her leaving, just like how a mother tiptoes out of her child’s room after finally getting them back to sleep. Only she wasn’t tiptoeing, she was walking, and I wasn’t quite asleep yet.

I was about to ask the angel why she could not stay longer, when the angel told me that she needed to get back to her crafts, for it was time for one of her ceramic pieces to come out of the kiln.

I got up then, and turned to the angel, thinking we would get back on the tour bus, for I was now eager to see more. But the angel let me know that the tour had ended, and with a gentle lift of her hand, I was sent back to earth and then I woke up.

 

*

Rev. 21:4-5, KJV “And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away. And he that sat upon the throne said, Behold, I make all things new…”

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The Football Field

(Continued from https://dreamsofdunamis.wordpress.com/2016/11/04/still-here/)

The dream begins with me running on a football field, holding a football. This in itself, surprised me, for I detest football. It was not something I would do, yet there I was, running with the ball. I had a general idea of where the end goal posts were, and I knew I was running in the right direction.

There was no one else on the field that I could see; no one from my team, and no one from the opposing team.

It was in the dead of night, extremely cold, and it was snowing so bad that at times you couldn’t see more than a foot ahead. The wind howled and blew in gusts, swirling about, making mesmerizing patterns in the air. The playing field still had the big lights on, but they seemed to struggle to cut through all the swirling depths of snow.

I suddenly realized, that I did not have to do what I was doing, so I stopped.

I looked up into the bleachers, and could see about a dozen or so people out there. I sensed there were a few more in the bleachers that were out of my line of sight, but that the rest of the fans had given up supporting the game and had gone home because of the severe weather.

I felt very cold and very alone.

Then as I looked towards the other side of the field, I saw a bus depot. I starred at it. Every now and then I could feel the warmth from its doors gust out towards my face. It looked warm and bright, cheery and good.

So I dropped the ball where I stood, and went into the bus depot.

The warmth there felt wonderful!

I sat there on one of their benches, and watched as loads of people would arrive in a bus, and then transfer themselves onto another bus that would take them on to heaven.

Oh the stories they shared were amazing! They all talked among themselves, explaining from where they had come and how they had got there. The bus driver always interacted with them, and seemed to be very happy with what he heard. There were smiles and oohs and ahs, as the people shared their stories. I listened with rapt attention, whenever a bus rolled in.

As I sat there on the bench and waited for my turn to get on the bus, I faced the football field. The door was as big as a single garage door, and was made of metal. For what seemed like ages, the door remained steadfastly open. But then one day I noticed that the door was slowly closing.

The scene upon the field never changed; every once and a while I’d feel a gust of that frigid cold weather upon my face and shiver. I’d look out into the darkness, but I could not see anyone else out there.

One day I noticed that the door had only a foot or so left to go before being fully closed. But I didn’t care. I had long ago decided never to go back out into that mess again. I had no doubt that where I was, was the best place to be.

A while later, (which seemed like many days without end,) the door finally clicked shut.

The days then seemed to extend on forever, me watching those happy revelers climb onto the bus bound for heaven, and wondering when It would be my turn to get on.

Finally, when I was beginning to wonder if it would ever be my turn, they called my name.

I walked up into the bus, expecting to be able to share my story with everyone else on the bus, but there was only one other person on that bus besides me and the bus driver, and she sat huddled down in the very back, and was unwilling to talk to me. The bus driver also refused to talk with me; he couldn’t even bring himself to look at me.

Then I realized with a pang, that he was ASHAMED of me!

As the bus began to depart from the depot, I woke up.
*

1 Corinthians 9:24-27 ESV “Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one receives the prize? So run that you may obtain it. Every athlete exercises self-control in all things. They do it to receive a perishable wreath, but we an imperishable. So I do not run aimlessly; I do not box as one beating the air. But I discipline my body and keep it under control, lest after preaching to others I myself should be disqualified.”

Isaiah 40:31 ESV “But they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.”

Matthew 24:13 ESV “But the one who endures to the end will be saved.”
TO BE CONTINUED…

The Face Of The Colonel

A dream…

 

I am up in the sky, traveling in something. (Not sure what.)

It reminds me of having just jumped out of a plane, and I’m free-falling down to earth.

There are others there with me; I am not alone.

 

We fly go through the clouds,

Then suddenly, I hear a voice, asking “Colonel? Colonel? I am looking for Colonel.”

 

We all looked at each other with blank faces, not knowing any Colonel in our midst.

 

“I was told the Colonel is here,” the voice said.

 

Then suddenly, I realize that the man is looking for me.

 

I’m not sure why he is calling me Colonel, but somehow I know for certain that he is referring to me.

 

So I lean over the thing we were in, and seen him there, under us.

 

He was a good looking and strong military man, having average brown hair and beard close-cut, and having brown eyes. (Or were they now blue? No.. hazel.. in the varying light they seemed to change color.) I knew that he had just died, and had not yet risen up to heaven.

 

“Colonel?” He asked, looking at me. “Are you the Colonel?”

 

I nodded my yes to him.

 

He then gave me a look of great relief and joy, and then he slowly starred at me. I could tell that he was slowly committing every thing he noted about me, to memory. Every line on my face, every plane, wrinkle, or crevice.

 

Then he let one huge fat tear roll from his eyes and fall down to the earth. He then said, “Now I can die in peace.”

 

He was about to fly off, when I called out to him, “Wait!”

 

He paused, looking back at me expectantly. So I asked him, “Why do you say this?”

 

Then he told me, that he had asked the Lord Jesus to show him the face of the Colonel who had helped to lead him from out of the enemy’s hands, before he rose to heaven.

 

As soon as he said this to me, he looked down to the ground that was quickly rising to us, and for some reason I feared that he would somehow upset the transportation we were in, and I knew that there were those with me who were not ready yet, so we could not go where he was going.

 

But my fears were for nothing, for he left to go where he was to go, and left us in our container just fine. We continued falling to the earth.

 

I then woke up.

 

 

The dream really confused me at first, for I could not make sense of it. I am no Colonel! I am a nobody! A nothing!

 

Then the Lord Jesus corrects me. “You are not nothing; you are My daughter.” (I could sense He was affronted by such a thought.)

 

“O.K.,” I conceded, “But I know I’m not a Colonel…”

 

“Go look up the word ‘Colonel’ Ma Petite.”

 

So I went and looked it up.

 

“Colonel (abbreviated Col., Col or COL and pronounced /ˈkɜrnəl/, similar to “kernel”) is a senior military officer rank below the general officer ranks. However, in some small military forces, such as those of Iceland or the Vatican, colonel is the highest rank. It is also used in some police forces and paramilitary organizations.

Historically, in the seventeenth, eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, a colonel was typically in charge of a regiment in an army. Modern usage varies greatly.

Equivalent naval ranks may be called captain or ship-of-the-line captain. In the Commonwealth air force rank system, the equivalent rank is group captain.”

(https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Colonel)

 

Captain of a ship?

 

Then it came to me; I suppose I was kind of like a captain for the Dreams Of Dunamis web site.

 

I went over to where my wooden belaying pin is, with all the scriptures written on it. “But I thought I was just a belaying pin on a ship. Not a captain of a ship!”

 

And with a very stern and matter-of-fact voice, the Lord replied: “You’ve been promoted.”

 

I tried to ask Him what He meant, but He would not say more about it.

 

Three days later, the forest fire hit.

 

TO BE CONTINUED…