I had the strangest dream last night. I came downstairs (Ty apparently got his wish to live in a two-story house) only to notice the first floor flooded. Dark hardwood planks buckled under the kitchen table and chairs tilted precariously from the warped floor. I remember kneeling down, touching the planks, wondering where the water was coming from. And then the panic came. Rising in my chest, I ran to the living room only to slosh slosh across grey carpet as if crossing a football field after a storm. Deep footprints disappeared the moment I stepped into the spongy, soaked carpet. Flooding crept closer to the sliding door, toward the front porch, as I watched the ground level of our home become an indoor water park.
I need to call our landlord, I thought. Anxiety levels rose as quick as the saturated floorboards and a million thoughts raced. Worries about cost and clean-up and damage to the furniture. I ran upstairs to grab my phone but a stirring in my spirit pulled me to pause. To not react. To watch. So I retraced steps back downstairs and saw our dog crouching in the corner, unfazed, and suddenly the entire scene changed. Where before the grey carpet sopped with water, was now a dark asphalt, like an outdoor school playground in its’ place. Kids were running on the blacktop. The foundation was now sturdy and solid. A place for play and recreation. I scanned across the kitchen to the dining room and took a deep breath in.
Where before a heavy kitchen table and chairs sat on buckling hardwoods, now a green lush field took up that space. Almost like Li’l Mom’s backyard, a rectangle plot of emerald grass. Soft underfoot.
I woke to Ty crawling on our bed, asking me to make his shoes “super lightning tight.”
Life, friends, isn’t always as it seems. Where we see floods and damage and the impossible, there are rich foundations being built and new growth coming up. There are miracles and impossible signs of hope. Sometimes displayed over months or years, and sometimes they come in the suddenly. As if you were walking upstairs and then retrace descending steps to a different scene.
Where is life presenting itself in ways you didn’t expect or anticipate? Could it be possible it may turn out better than planned?
Let’s take the floods friends. Let’s not panic or run for cover or call the closest rescue line. Let’s look deeper, maybe talk a walk, go upstairs. Listen. Pray. And come back down to notice hope all around.
Even when life seems sloshy.