Have you ever awakened from a terrible dream, relieved to be safe in the comfort of reality? For me, the opposite is often true.
I am sitting in a folding chair in the sandy soil that lets you know you're up north. The breeze that comes off the big lake carries that aromatic symphony of decaying leaves, wood smoke and charcoal, sunblock and sweat. I'm in the shade of a copse of tall pines, their needles occasionally poking at my bare feet through the sand.
Behind me are several picnic tables, where members of my family are talking, laughing, bantering about politics or telling stories about the kids. Cabin doors are slamming, people coming and going, either preparing for a meal or cleaning up after one, I can't really tell.
The children are playing, running and chasing each other, or being chased by harmless yellow jackets attracted to the sticky sweet watermelon juice that covers their little faces and hands. Someone is crying from a serious injury that will be forgotten in five minutes, while someone else tries using a ball to dislodge another ball that is stuck in a tree.
It's all so vivid, so temptingly close. I grasp the arms of the chair and push myself up as I stand, feeling the grainy sift of sand between my toes. I take my first step when the world starts to spin and fade. I'm still standing in the sandy soil when I realize what's happening.
No, please don't go. Please......
I'm staring at the ceiling, back in my broken body prison cell, fighting back that first wave of panic and anguish that greets me most mornings. I tell myself to find a handhold, something to keep me from sliding off the edge into the abyss. Sometimes it's easier, but after nights of dreaming....
There's music drifting down the hallway. Kate is playing worship songs while she does housework. I concentrate on the lyrics as someone sings about how strong God is when they are weak and afraid. Someone else sings about an anchor that holds in the midst of a storm. I slowly slide to a stop on the rock face. I find a ledge and secure a foothold; now if I can just climb out. I hear a familiar old verse.
"Whatever befalls, you have taught me to say:
It is well, It is well with my soul."
It's time to start my Sunday.
