Monday, February 18, 2008 at 1:01am
Dreaming of death
Column: Woman at the Well
I had a lucid dream this week, vivid in every detail. I was driving my Nissan 240SX up a high overpass when suddenly the road veered sharply to the left. I was unable to make the turn and crashed through the cement guard rail and found myself falling through space. The adrenaline rush brought all my senses to high alert. I realized I would die when I hit the ground.
I immediately and automatically turned to God, that Presence, that Spirit that has walked with me all the days of my life. I asked for peace and the willingness to let go, and I instantly received it. All would be well; if it was time, I was ready.
But it wasn't time. I woke up, adrenaline still pumping. It was 1:05 a.m. I sat up and recorded the dream in my journal. I got up and poured myself a glass of milk, which I drank slowly before returning to bed. I was at peace, resting in the arms of a deep peace. I knew that there was nothing in this world that I need fear.
Death itself has never been a real problem for me. Since I buried my great-grandmother Lettie when I was 16 (My mother was too overwhelmed with grief to make the arrangements, so I chose the flowers and did the eulogy), I have always had a quiet confidence that death is just a door that we will all walk through in our time.
What has always concerned me, however, is whether I would be able to face death with dignity. Would I walk through that door at peace and with the assurance that I could let go and relax into the arms of the Almighty? My dream has given me that vision and deep comfort.
In this wilderness season we call Lent, in which we prepare our hearts for the rebirth of Easter, we are encouraged to allow that which no longer serves to be released and cut away from our lives. It can be like a pruning, so that an abundance of healthy fruits may grow. My dream has given me great comfort. May you too be assured that you are free to let go and fall into the arms of God.
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Rev. Kristi Denham is pastor of the Congregational Church of Belmont, California (United Church of Christ). Her email address is {email RevKristi@aol.com}RevKristi@aol.com{/email}. © Copyright 2008 by Kristi Denham.
I immediately and automatically turned to God, that Presence, that Spirit that has walked with me all the days of my life. I asked for peace and the willingness to let go, and I instantly received it. All would be well; if it was time, I was ready.
But it wasn't time. I woke up, adrenaline still pumping. It was 1:05 a.m. I sat up and recorded the dream in my journal. I got up and poured myself a glass of milk, which I drank slowly before returning to bed. I was at peace, resting in the arms of a deep peace. I knew that there was nothing in this world that I need fear.
Death itself has never been a real problem for me. Since I buried my great-grandmother Lettie when I was 16 (My mother was too overwhelmed with grief to make the arrangements, so I chose the flowers and did the eulogy), I have always had a quiet confidence that death is just a door that we will all walk through in our time.
What has always concerned me, however, is whether I would be able to face death with dignity. Would I walk through that door at peace and with the assurance that I could let go and relax into the arms of the Almighty? My dream has given me that vision and deep comfort.
In this wilderness season we call Lent, in which we prepare our hearts for the rebirth of Easter, we are encouraged to allow that which no longer serves to be released and cut away from our lives. It can be like a pruning, so that an abundance of healthy fruits may grow. My dream has given me great comfort. May you too be assured that you are free to let go and fall into the arms of God.
— — —
Rev. Kristi Denham is pastor of the Congregational Church of Belmont, California (United Church of Christ). Her email address is {email RevKristi@aol.com}RevKristi@aol.com{/email}. © Copyright 2008 by Kristi Denham.