Once we are there, He gently takes the book from my hands and places it on the table in front of the fireplace. “Keep it here, where it is ever before you and you can remember that you are writing this.” Turning back to me, He says, “Come with Me to My chambers now, I want to show you your dreams.” He takes the box up from the table.
I follow Him out to my balcony and across to the balcony of His rooms. As we walk into the sitting room I am reminded of His taking residence there and glad of it. He places the box on the table and sits down on the small couch. He bids me to sit with Him.
As I do, He puts His arm around me and draws me close. For a time, we talk, not about anything in particular, about the journey to this place and the changes it has brought about. Finally, though He says, “Look in the box.”
Biting my lip, I bring the box into my lap. It is full, but not too heavy to manage. Looking inside, I see a number of objects, each carefully wrapped in plain paper, as if packed for long term storage. I cannot make out what the objects are, though. Reaching into the box, I remove the topmost object and set the box aside.
The object is quite heavy for its size, about the size of a woman’s shoe. Glancing toward Him for encouragement, I begin unwrapping the object. The paper resists my efforts for a bit, but finally gives way to my hands. As it tears away, I see a polished ceramic figure in cream, grey and gold. The figurine is that of a bird, a dove I think.
I find myself staring at it for a long time. What does this have to do with my dreams? I do not understand what this object means. Something out of the corner of my eye draws my attention to the window. As I glance toward it, I am reminded of the eagle we had watched soaring overhead.
To fly! To succeed, to soar above! This bird is a picture of that flight, of success!
“Yes, child,” He confirms gently, “I want you to dream of success, to see that, to hold on to that. That is why the bird is ceramic. It is heavy and sturdy so that you can hold fast to it without fear of it breaking, crumbling in your hands.” I feel His arm warm around me, hugging me gently as He explains.
I stare dumbly at the figurine for a few moments. A tear slides down my cheek as I realize that this is something I have never dared let myself hope for, dream of. The old expectations of disappointment would always overtake the possibility. But, what then, does success mean?
“What does it mean little one?” He voices my thought, challenging me to look further into this dream.
What does it mean? I turn the idea round and round in my mind, considering different definitions of the word. Finally, though, I realize there really is only one definition. “Success is pleasing you, Papa. That is what I want more than anything.”
He leans down and kisses the top of my head tenderly at this. I am reassured that I have answered well. He explains briefly, without great detail, what this will look like. I find I have no reply to make. With great care, He takes the bird from my hands and places it on the table, edging the box toward me again. He nods toward the box to encourage me to look into it again.
I do not actually look in, but rather reach in and pull out the next object. Unlike the first, it is very light and thin. This one is easier to unwrap. It is a white quill pen with a gold nib.
This object I do understand, very clearly. I have always had a dream of writing, from the third grade, maybe even from first grade, I remember it. I wrote throughout childhood and into high school. But then a deep wound came in to steal that from me. It has been lost to me for many years. And now, He is handing it back to me, purified, refined in His fire, for His purposes.
“I am giving you a pen of gold for the words that I will give you will be as gold to the ears of those who hear them.” He explains with pleasure deep in His voice.
I am weeping openly now, I could not hold it back if I tried. “This is my dream that you are giving me back!” Some how I am surprised that what I had within me could be what He would desire.
“You will recognize all your dreams, child, they are all very familiar to you. I gave them to you in the first place; you gave them back just now. All I did was to purify them. They are all things you know.” He draws me closer now, pressing my head under His chin for a moment. Slowly my tears cease as I caress the pen in my hands coming to believe that what I thought was forever gone is now given back to me.