I found a saved document on my computer tonight. The title is “Snow Dream October 2012”. This is how it reads:
~I am holding Phoebe and she is a baby. I am running from a large Tsunami wave and storm that is about to engulf us. I know that Nathan is somewhere with the boys keeping them safe. I am panicked, knowing that if the wave reaches us we will both be drowned, swallowed up. I run and run with Phoebe in my arms until at last, the wave is upon us. I inwardly give up. I am no match for the wave. I throw myself over Phoebe on the ground and wait for it to hit, but instead, when I look up, the wave turns to gently falling snow and we are saved. I know the snow will not swallow us up.~
I had this dream exactly one year before I lost my Phoebe. I can’t help but draw parallels; running from death, total panic, fear of not being able to protect my daughter…
And then surrender to the inevitable..
But then the crushing wave transforms into a gently falling snow. .what to make of that?
When it came time to make plans for Phoebe’s Make-A-Wish trip, she asked for snow. A few months later, a miracle took place.
On Christmas day.
Big, fat, snowflakes suddenly fell from the sky on gusty winds. We were shocked. Phoebe sat in our bay window seat and clapped her hands in delight as the giant flakes made a white blanket across our yard. We marveled. It felt like a personal gift for Phoebe, straight from God. The snowstorm was so powerful it knocked out our electricity and we spent the evening warming our hands by the woodstove and playing board-games by candlelight. It was magical.
A month after Phoebe completed chemotherapy, Make-A-Wish flew us to Colorado to get Phoebe some BIG snow. We spent a week in a beautiful cabin surrounded by snow covered mountains. Phoebe and Deacon made snow-castles while the big boys went sledding, and we spent our evenings drinking hot cocoa and putting jig-saw puzzles together. I remember the quiet of the snow. It was packed all around us, several feet high and it made everything still and peaceful. A nice way to spend a week after 14 months of hospitals and surgery and sepsis and chemo and seizures and loss and tears.
A gently falling snow after the tsunami….
I know I am no match for the wave. It laps at my heels every day, I feel its spray on my back. But maybe just when I feel I am about to be overcome, I will be saved…
“He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.” Revelation 21:4