I had a dream. My dream was intense and very realistic. Most importantly, it has brought me peace.
In my dream....
I went to heaven. When I got there, there was no huge gate with Saint Peter sitting behind a big desk. There were no angels with wings floating around. When I got there, there was only one person: my Grandad. He was waiting for me. He knew I was coming. He looked exactly the same as he did most of my life: he was strong with big hands, a big smile, and very little hair. He was wearing his standard "uniform": a golf shirt and slacks. Only, in heaven, his shirt was white. Bright white, like Gran had washed it with Clorox. As soon as Grandad saw me, he smile grew wide and he said, "I've been waiting for you, girl. Come on in."
He put his strong arm around me and we walked into heaven. Grandad took me into a section that looked like a suburban neighborhood with big, beautiful houses on both sides of the street. The street was white with a fog rising up off of it, almost like someone had a dry ice machine. Where there might have been yards in front of each house, there was instead shimmery white light--sort of like a tub full of bubbles. There were no trees, no grass, but it was very, very beautiful. There were no other beings in sight, or even signs of life. The only movement was from me and my Grandad, walking side by side.
Finally he stopped in front of the biggest house. He said, "This is it. I want to show you around."
I wasn't sure at all what to expect, but I was not afraid. He opened the door, and I immediately felt warmth and coziness. It was the feeling of home. I get a similar feeling when I sit in front of our Christmas tree, loving the lights. Or after the boys go to bed and the house is still and quiet. It is a feeling of contentment and belonging.
We stepped in to the house. Grandad said, "I've been getting things ready for you."
Before I explain what he meant, I should let you know a little something about my Grandad. When he lived here on earth, he was a builder. Not for his job, but after he retired, he spent a lot of time here:
He made treasure boxes and bookshelves and tea trays. All of us have some precious keepsake in our homes that was fashioned by Grandad's hands.
So it really was no surprise in heaven that Grandad had a workshop. It looked just like his red-roof shop that stands silently now, except that the roof, the walls, even the sign--were white.
Grandad had been working hard. His restored body had added on to the place that God had ready for him when he left us in 2008. As he walked me through the home, he proudly showed me each room. Each was large, and the furniture was gleaming white. There were rooms for each member of our family. God and Grandad had made sure that our family would be together for eternity. Each aunt and uncle had a room. Every cousin (plus their significant other and their children) had a space of their own. There was a room for Buck and Grandmama, my other grandparents. In his own room, Grandad showed me the "pretty things" that he knew Gran would love. There was a table covered in white porcelain figurines and tea cups--girly trinkets, if you will. He was ready for her to join him.
The last room was mine. Grandad pushed open the door, and I entered in amazement. The room was cavernous. There was a toolbox (white, of course) on the floor that looked just like the one Hubby's Papa gave him. Grandad picked it up quickly and explained that he had been making some last-minute adjustments because he knew I was coming. I remember that the rooms had beds, but the unspoken understanding was that they would never need to be used for sleeping or nursing a sickness, in the sense that I use my bed now. They were simply for comfort.
There was space in my room for Hubby and my little cowboys. Grandad knew they would be coming later. I was not fearful or sad to be separated from them. I, too, knew that they were coming.
After the house tour was over, Grandad led me back out the front door. The house had a massive front porch with white railings, much like the one I've "pinned" onto my "Dreams" board on Pinterest. Grandad had built two Cracker Barrel-like rocking chairs. He sat in one, I sat in the other. He took my hand in his, and we began to rock back and forth in perfect rhythm. My grandfather said, "Now, girl, all we have to do is wait for the others."
I woke up with a smile on my face. It was more than a dream to me...it was an experience. I felt--and still feel--an intense peace that I haven't known for as long as I've had The Sickness. I don't know what the outcome of The Sickness will be, but I am certain that ultimately, my dream will become my reality. This old body betrays me. But when it gives out, I WILL GO HOME. And what a glorious home is waiting for me!