July 5 – “A Dream?”

Kel & his family were not home at my bedtime last night.  I talked to them around ten and they were still pretty far away.  So I told them I would leave the front door unlocked, and I was going to bed.  Sure enough, they got home right around midnight.  I was awakened from my slumber of beauty (or whatever you call it) by a wondrous rendition of the world renowned classic, "Take Me Out to the Ball Game."  Ah, what a marvelous dream this was.  The Astros were winning the final game of the World Series.  It was the middle of the seventh inning.  Everyone was on their feet singing boisterously amid an albeit early celebration.  I was all set to join in, when … I opened my eyes.  I shook my head to clear my groggy senses.  The field vanished into darkness.  But strangely, the singing continued.  And then, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a faint glimmer of light.  And an annoying buzzing.  Suddenly, and sadly, I realized that I was in bed.  Alone.  And the song was the ring tone that April had downloaded onto my cell phone.  A call.  Would it be Chris calling with news about her mother?  Perhaps someone from Seaside needing help?  Or maybe an annoying yet funny prank call?  Alas.  It was none of these.  As I picked up the noisy communications device, and as my eyes slowly came into focus, I saw a picture of the caller.  Ah, the miracle of modern technology.  There was Kel right in my hand.  Other thought leapt forth into my consciousness.  Were they all right?  Maybe they had a wreck.  I wonder what route they were taking from where last I heard from them.  Clumsily I slid open the portal and managed a sleepy, "Hello?"  I was greeted by the somewhat cheery, straining to conceal extreme frustration voice of my oldest son.  "Hi, Dad.  The storm door is locked."  Again, alas.  Unbeknownst to me, sometime that evening before she had retired to her own bedroom, Mom had, in her helpful way, locked the storm door.  A wave of relief that there had been no wreck, that there was no sad news, that they were home at last swept over me.  Honestly, a second wave snuck in for but a brief second as well.  This one held the inevitable taste of annoyance tinged with a bit of bitterness over the loss of precious moments of rest.  Ah.  I raced to the door and unlocked it.  And I raced back to bed.  Where I couldn't fall asleep right away.  So I repeated my previous ritual, working another crossword puzzle until I again felt sleepiness overwhelming me.  And again I drifted into dreams, of the Astros losing in the bottom of the ninth.  Or was that reality?   Jonah 4:2 says, "I knew that you are a gracious and compassionate God, slow to anger and abounding in love, a God who relents from sending calamity."   Father, I know you are those things as well.  And I remember that it was Jonah who said them during a temper tantrum.  Forgive my tantrums, O God of graciousness and compassion.  Amen.