Sometimes I enter my dreams “already in progress.” Three years ago I experienced one like that. The back-story of my dream would disturb me after I woke up, because I would never have put myself in the situation I found myself in. But in my dream I had no problem with what I had done. It was not only the right thing to do, it was expected.
I can’t tell you why, but I had given my children to someone else to raise. I’d made only one request of the family that received my cherished newborns.
“Tell them about me.” I urged. “Tell them who I am and how much I love them.”
I’d given the family everything they would need to make sure my kids knew me and understood the intensity of my love for them.
They solemnly promised to carry out my wishes.
When I entered the scene of my dream, I was preparing to meet my children for the very first time. Sarah was 15, Scott was 10 and Sam was there too! He was 11.
Beside myself with excitement, I imagined them running to me, throwing their arms around me, and talking nonstop about how wonderful it was to finally see my face and hear my voice after having heard so much about me.
I felt my heart pounding as I entered the room where they waited, huddled together on a sofa. Right away I recognized those beautiful, precious children as my own.
I thought my chest would explode with delight. I could hardly wait to embrace them. I hurried over to the sofa and stood before them with a smile as wide as the heavens.
My beloved children looked uncomfortable. They shifted awkwardly and remained glued to the couch. I suddenly realized with horror that they had no idea who I was.
Just then the man and woman who had promised to carry out my wishes appeared. The children looked relieved. I felt my stomach turn. I didn’t know whether to scream in anger or collapse in grief.
“You were supposed to tell them about me,” I cried. “But they don’t recognize me at all. My children have no idea who I am!” I was shaking visibly. “I trusted you to tell them about me. To tell them how much I love them. But because of you they don’t even know of my existence.”
My gut wrenched with pain so real it woke me up. I could barely breathe, but my heart whispered, “God, what was that?”
I heard His strong voice respond to my heart saying, “That’s what you have done to Me.”
His loving admonition convicted rather than condemned. Even so, my heart broke as He gently, but firmly continued, “Unless you tell my children about Me, they won’t know how much I love them.”
O my people, hear my teaching; listen to the words of my mouth. I will open my mouth in parables, I will utter hidden things, things from of old—that we have heard and known, what our fathers have told us. We will not hide them from their children; we will tell the next generation the praiseworthy deeds of the LORD, his power, and the wonders he has done. He decreed statutes for Jacob and established the law in Israel, which he commanded our forefathers to teach their children, so the next generation would know them, even the children yet to be born, and they in turn would tell their children. Then they would put their trust in God and would not forget his deeds but would keep his commands. Psalm 78:1-7 NIV