Miracle Dreams
The berries are red and ripe, and we have more than enough. (What a blessing in these days since the second famine!) Well, I’ll be packing some up to share with our neighbors and even old Mr. Grump, champion complainer. And of course, as a safety measure, I’ll deliver them under cover of night. We all certainly know how important it is to be on our guard against old Grump's lack of understanding, but that’s another story.
The simple truth is I owe it all to Ruth. She’s the one who talked all the time about her dreams, and Chris would roll his eyes or wink or nod politely while thinking his own thoughts. But I stayed with her so much I learned to listen and sort out the truth. Her favorite dream was when the kids were little and she could see them peaking around corners or from behind the last big tree in the yard. She’d laugh so hard telling that simple story that tears ran in rivulets down her wrinkled cheeks.
The simple truth is I owe it all to Ruth. She’s the one who talked all the time about her dreams, and Chris would roll his eyes or wink or nod politely while thinking his own thoughts. But I stayed with her so much I learned to listen and sort out the truth. Her favorite dream was when the kids were little and she could see them peaking around corners or from behind the last big tree in the yard. She’d laugh so hard telling that simple story that tears ran in rivulets down her wrinkled cheeks.
But it quit being funny to us when the miracles started. Oh, looking back now I wonder what I missed, but there was no mistaking the first dramatic one. It happened on a day when I took her for a rare outside walk. She stopped where one of the new trees was struggling, and she said, “I see them now.” No one was there of course, but she wouldn’t leave until I came to look. I was shocked to see the ground covered in healthy elf-form mushrooms. You know the kind—tiny, tender, tasty, and full of vitamins but outrageously expensive since the second famine. Well, it didn’t take me a quick minute to run inside for a pan knowing we had just found lunch. Chris, I and Ruth loved the soup I stirred up with those mushrooms, and we were careful to give God thanks, but we kept our mouth shut about the blessing.
"A fluke you know," he said. And of course I agreed. But then a few days later Ruth wanted another outside walk and bless her heart I understood and off we shuffled together. And it happened again. How weird was that? And then she took to sending me outside on certain days to look for her, saying she saw them in her dreams. Sure enough they kept coming back but only when she said, “I see them now.” Chris started calling her his dream baby. It was a hoot really, Ruth with her stooped shoulders and flabby, pale skin. She certainly wasn’t anybody’s vision of a hot babe, but we all chuckled at the joke and slurped happily at our miracle soup.
"A fluke you know," he said. And of course I agreed. But then a few days later Ruth wanted another outside walk and bless her heart I understood and off we shuffled together. And it happened again. How weird was that? And then she took to sending me outside on certain days to look for her, saying she saw them in her dreams. Sure enough they kept coming back but only when she said, “I see them now.” Chris started calling her his dream baby. It was a hoot really, Ruth with her stooped shoulders and flabby, pale skin. She certainly wasn’t anybody’s vision of a hot babe, but we all chuckled at the joke and slurped happily at our miracle soup.
Ruth had other dreams too. Like the time she told me about seeing leaves in her sleep. Well, seeing leaves is a pretty vague dream if you ask me. But I was with her, sitting right here in a comfortable silence, and just sort of gazing at the standard issue eggplants everybody grows these days, when suddenly a long leaf unfurled before our very eyes. Now we all know leaves do this, but there we were witnesses, so to speak, at the exact moment of birth. It was a sweet miracle, and we both knew it. She reached over and patted my hand saying, “See,” and I did. But that wasn't the end. Two amazing things happened with that plant--we harvested more of those veggies than usual, and they actually tasted wonderful. Well, we were careful to give God thanks, but we kept our mouth shut about the blessing.
Then, slowly, over time, Ruth said our abundance was an "opportunity for sharing," and because we had learned to trust her way of seeing things, we started to share with a few of our needy neighbors. (And we're all needy since the second famine, aren't we?) But we're careful never to use the word miracle. We don't think folks would understand--certainly not Mr. Grump. But that's another story for another time.
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