Four o’clock in the morning and a dream I cannot even remember wakes me like a sunrise reveille. “I’m up! I’m Up! …wait…why am I up?”
I get a drink and go back to bed. Ten months ago I would have climbed back into bed, snuggled up against Archie and let his rhythmic breathing lull me back to the land of fairies, unicorns and castles. Six months ago I would have made a pot of coffee and chatted with Arch because he would have been in the living room, sitting in his recliner using his back massager or pacing the floor. Now I lay there thinking about how dark, quiet, and empty my room is, thinking…always thinking… .
Where does my mind go? “Finding Dory.” I shared with you about the outdoor theater that has the double feature and wanting to see the second of two movies. What I did not divulge was that the first movie was “Finding Dory,” the Disney sequel to “Finding Nemo.” It’s about a fish with a short term memory loss condition, who was constantly forgetting what she was just talking about, where she was suppose to be swimming, or how to get home. He parents finally took sea shells and make a path from where she played to her house so she would always find way her home.
Now the question: What the heck does that have to do with me laying in the dark and not being able to sleep? I have no idea. I pray. I need to write to find out why my heavenly dad has this stuff spinning in my head.
I steal away in the darkness, not wanting to wake up the fury kids. I find some candles, the lighter, and make a cup of morning brew. The light from the computer temporary blinds me until my eyes adjust and the hum and whirl of the keurig machine is shouting “good morning!” from the kitchen. Like it or not, for me, morning is upon me.
Just a second. Let me grab my coffee….ahhhhhh.
Back to Dory: Finding Dory begins by Dory having flashbacks about her childhood, long forgotten, and the intense desire to go “home,” even though she didn’t know where home was. She just knew that she “missed it” and…she didn’t want to forget what that felt like.
Archie went home over four months ago. He was sick, more sick than anyone else but Taylor, Emma Lou, and I knew (Emma Lou and I were just reminiscing about how I had shared with her in October that Archie’s back hurt so badly we almost cancelled our Dani Johnson event). He had started pacing at night back then, so full nights of sleep came to an end in September.
Sleeping and cuddling with Arch is now beginning to feel like a dream I know happened, but the glass window effect is beginning to set in. It’s like I’m watching the memories in my head but from a distance, more like a member of an audience, than a participant. Like Dory, I remember how that feels…and I don’t want to forget it…but it’s fading because the distance between the event and my current reality continues to get further apart. With this realization is…another sense of loss.
In my mind I keep trying to find the seashells that mark my path back to “home,” but I don’t see any. That “home” no longer exists. I can never go back. Tears.
But there is one that will never fade away:
Hebrews 13:14 “This world is not our permanent home; we are looking forward to a home yet to come.”
I realize, I haven’t even been “home” yet! The best thing: Archie had the most amazing night sleep last night and is sharing his morning cup of brew with our two kids and Sam, who I have yet to meet.
No shells needed. I know my way home.