Most of us dream by day and by night. Once there was a season that I didn’t care to dream; I didn’t dare to dream. I couldn’t. The energy and focus it took to dream was too much, too hard. Dreaming required energy that I did not possess.
Thankfully, that season is behind me. Now I do dream and on a good day I trust in the slow and steady steps to accomplish the dream. These days I dream of writing, even writing books.
When January turned out to be much busier than I expected, my life felt like a jumble of spinning plates. I wanted rest, but I got more busy than rest. Frustration set in and I began to wonder: maybe I’m mistaken and I am not supposed to be spending so much time—that I don’t feel I have—writing. Much like the internal battle I had over painting years ago, I asked, “Is this a vain pursuit?” Am I giving myself to the right things? Am I on track?
Am I following the manna trail?
The manna trail. That is my language for following His lead. Manna was God’s daily provision to the Israelites when they were following Him to the Promised Land. He used manna to train His children to follow, trust, and obey Him as He took care of their earthly needs. Sometimes I see Him leaving a trail for me to follow. When I take a step, then another, and then another, I am following Him. I am following the manna trail.
Did I mention this distress was near the end of January? The month of My January Rest? I feared I lost the trail in the month of my supposed rest. In one moment of weakness I cried out, “Show me the manna trail!”
Within a couple hours, my friend (without her knowing any of this) sent me not one, but two posts about manna! The notice “Manna One and Two” popped up on by screen when I stopped at a stop sign; I nearly had to pull off the road to see what she had sent to me! How did she know to send me manna? She didn’t. He did. She obeyed a nudge.
Reading the posts she sent gave me general peace to trust and rest instead of stress and strive. He heard my cry; He sees me! I can rest in that.
The next day’s agenda included a trip to the dentist office. One hopes for a mundane visit to the dentist office. The preferable option goes like this: clean, floss, polish, pay, and go vs you need: X, Y, or Z—open your mouth and your pocketbook and say, “Ahhhh!”
Never, ever could I have dreamed this version. One of the dental techs, that I see twice per year, came into my room. My mouth is full of another hygienist’s hands and tools when she says, “Angel, I heard you were here and I had to tell you that I had a dream about you last night! I was in shock. After I waived the other tech’s hands out of my mouth, I asked her if she knew I was coming in today. She emphatically said, “No! Which was why when I saw your name on the schedule, I had to track you down!”
In the dream, someone handed her a book and excitedly said, “Do you know Angel Ambrose? Have you seen what Angel Ambrose has written!? It is wonderful.” I don’t know if she said this or I saw it in my mind, but there was a white light over the writing.
And no, no laughing gas was used on me in that office on that day. I did laugh though!
This is what I call an out of the box dentist appointment, don’t you think? I left the appointment still a bit stunned. I understood that something significant had happened, but I don’t think it had really sunk in yet.
Here I was questioning whether I should keep writing or not. I cry out a tiny prayer asking Him to show me the manna trail. He sent me manna through a hand-picked friend who has been my biggest motivator and a constant encourager for my writing dream.
Then He sent a literal dream, for me, to a messenger. He sent a messenger, to encourage me—in a dentist’s chair—about my writing.
He can do anything. He did that for me. That both thrills me and frightens me.
I’m fragile and flawed; that is why my dreams are fragile. My hope is in what He can do. My desire is for what He will do. My joy is for what I get to do! His encouragement to me, through a couple of faithful women, who couldn’t have known my struggle, gives me faith to proceed. They reached out, stepped out, and spoke up, and helped soothed my fears.
Fragile dreams are beautiful. They are better than no dreams and maybe even better than bold dreams because I want to dream the dreams He has for me. Whether by day or by night, no matter how fragile, if they are His dreams, they will become a living reality in the bright light of day.
Uncovered 