Dad's Dreams

My Dad is a spiritual guy. He is a reading mentor for a little one at the local elementary school. He gets up before the crack of dawn out on his little farm and takes part in a ham radio Bible network—often leading the morning prayers from a little corner of his basement. A handful of individuals from all over the country tune in to take part in this unique form of community. They are a small but mighty group of prayer warriors. I know there are people in the group that look to my Dad for his leadership—even though they may never have met him. I know this because I know my Dad. He is a wonderful example of what a man should be—a loving and compassionate person, father, husband, human being and child of God.

Years ago, when I was growing up, Dad had to take a city job for a while. He worked installing and repairing radios in police cars. It was thankless work, in the bay of a cold garage where he lay with his head under the car dashboards most of the day. He had to wear a gray uniform. I remember him humorously dubbing himself a “gray person”—more a reflection of his self-esteem at the time, than of his apparel. I remember thinking how very untrue that was about him.

On the surface, a gray person may seem to fade into the woodwork. But in reality, a gray person is a support person who spends his/her days and nights devoted to make someone else’s life better. They clean your office at night, taking out your half-empty coffee cups that spilled into the can in your haste to make it to an important meeting. They cook your steak to your specifications at a nice restaurant, then go home and eat soup because they can’t afford steak. They fix the broken water line to your house that freezes in subzero temperatures while you watch cable from inside, curled up in a cozy chair by the fire.

There are many things I know about my Dad—but I learn new things about him all the time. Last week, I received an email describing “another” recent dream he’d had that was extremely vivid. (I didn’t even know he’d had these dreams at all!?) Here is how he described it:

“In the dream, Soups and I went into the auto dealership in town and met with the young salesman we’ve worked with in the past. He was all bruised and scratched up. He was in such bad condition I didn’t think he should be there. But the more sympathetic I became, the more defensive he was; ‘I'm okay, its nothing.’ We bought a car, I think, but I remember Soups volunteered to come in on Mondays and substitute for him, selling cars. I remember feeling so sad for him because I knew he had a family depending on him for his income--and he had wrecked his new car.”

Dad told Soups about the dream the next day. They went about their errands and appointments that Thursday—arriving home around 8 p.m. There they found a message on the answering machine from the car salesman that Soups purchased her last car from three years ago. They hadn’t heard from him in a year or more. “He sounded ok," Dad said in an email to us girls that evening, "... just wondered if we are ready to buy another car?”

After we all emailed him back to comment on the chilling coincidence, he shared another dream: “One of my most vivid was the morning of the tsunami. I dreamed that we were all at a beach home. You were all children and I was outside on the beach. I could hear laughing in the cottage. I was surprised to look down and see water rushing over my feet. A little later, it was at my knees. Soon it swept me backwards. I was holding onto a post on the porch for dear life. I shared this with Soups and Megs. Later in the day came the news of the disaster in Asia. ... There is a thin veil between this life and the next.”

And this one …

“In college, I was broke, hungry and very confused. One day I went down to the Cathedral (I wasn’t a Catholic) and sat down to talk with a priest. He was very understanding. His name was Father Shore. As I left, he said, ‘Remember ... STAY CLOSE TO SHORE.’ Good advice in these times. Time to stay close to His shore.”

These are not the words, nor the dreams of a gray person. These are the words of my Technicolor Daddy... who can be found tending to his brothers and sisters at a car dealership, rural elementary school or even from the corner of his basement.

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“So the last shall be first, and the first last: for many be called, but few chosen.” Matthew 20:16