I often had that dream in High School where I would be standing in front of the big huge metal gates to the school entrance ready to start the day, only to suddenly realized as I walked through and towards my locker that I was stark naked.
It was a horrible dream. Every ounce of my body felt like it was real and I would wake up feeling embarrassed. It would be the absolute worse thing that could happen to me. Until I had kids.
A different feeling emerged. Not an unfamiliar feeling, but worse than the naked dream because this feeling is real and magnified by a thousand.
I have never felt as vulnerable as I do having my children and knowing I have zero control over my existence. That the best I can do is relinquish that fear to God, have faith and trust what comes.
This comes to me because as I prepared our oldest in letting her know mama and papa would be away two nights, her initial reaction was sadness. She hugged me tight and told me she would miss me. And as she asks me what if I don’t see you again, it took all my strength not to lose it and instead gently explain I’ll be back and that even if I were gone, I’d always be in her heart and her memories. I have to believe it myself so that I don’t cry right then and there.
And that’s when the vulnerability seeps in. I feel worse than the naked dream. I start to think I need to write them each a letter in case I were to suddenly die so that they have something they can read to remember me by. A flood of thoughts comes to mind and I feel naked. So vulnerable and scared.
And all I can do is pray, trust in God that he knows when the time will come for each of us. It’s out of my control.