Thursday, March 21, 2013


I dreamed about my dad last night. This may not seem unusual to you, but it's epic for me.

My dad died 30 years ago this coming May, and in all that time I've never dreamed about him. He's never even been a peripheral character in my dreams. And last night's dream wasn't anything particularly poignant, he didn't have anything earth-shattering to tell me. What I remember is we were in a group of people and he was sitting on the arm of a chair smiling at me. Just smiling. I don't remember him ever looking so happy, so radiant. I don't even think he said anything directly to me in the entire dream.

The significance is that he was there. A few years ago, during a priesthood blessing, I was told that my dad was proud of me. It was the first glimpse of contact from him that I can remember since he died. I was also told that he wanted to be here with me, to help me, but that the Lord was holding him back. At first, I admit it, I was confused and a little hurt by that. Why would God keep my dad from me like that? I knew He did it for a greater purpose, something I didn't understand at the time, but it still hurt.

I took "holding him back" to mean "preventing his presence." Now I think "holding him back" meant "reserving him for the right time."

Lately I've been struggling more than I feel I should to fulfill my purpose. It shouldn't be this hard, especially since all the pieces are in place now, or at least appear to be. I'm not working, so I have time to write. I'm not sick, so I have energy to write. Sure, the computer isn't fixed yet but that's me being a chicken. All I really have to do is put in the new motherboard and plug everything in. (maybe part of my worry is that it won't work even after all that) And I can still continue to use the laptop even though it's power isn't reliable and it hurts my back to sit and type at it. Because of its power issues, the laptop has to be used at a desk or a table. I can't sit it on my lap and recline somewhere comfortable, which kind of stinks.

But every day that I don't get some writing work done, I go to bed feeling down on myself. What am I not doing right? What key puzzle piece am I missing? The desire is there, especially when I go to bed. The time exists.  What's holding me back? I've been puzzling over this for weeks now.

Last night I had something of an epiphany about my attitude, and went to bed all excited to get up and begin the day fresh today. Last night I also got to see my dad. And this morning, while checking my email, I got a great confidence booster from a sweet friend.

All these things aligned so perfectly to set my attitude for the day. Although I didn't get up as early as I wanted to (silly cat), I still felt like I could accomplish something today--and any movement in the right direction is progress.

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