The Languages of Heaven

Last night as I lay down before sleep and used the quiet time to talk to God I had three different languages running through my head.  Since I started a new job six weeks ago in which I speak and hear a lot more Spanish than I usually do I often hear the voice in my head that internally expresses my thoughts speaking to me in Spanish, in addition to the Portuguese and English that are always there.  Sometimes I worry that I will accidentally speak Spanish at home, where others don't speak it.  But I reflected last night in my quiet time that it doesn't matter to God because He understands it all, plus over 200 other languages and even the silent language that is not spoken but just wished and daydreamed and hoped.

I think it will be cool when I get to Heaven and can understand all the languages too.  I've read a book and seen a show that portray it as if somebody would speak to me in Heaven using, say, Swahili and I would hear it in English.  But I hope it's not.  I hope I hear the actual Swahili and understand it perfectly.  Or maybe there is one whole other language reserved only for Heaven.

Causing Emotional Pain to our Loved Ones

I'm currently listening to Still Life with Bread Crumbs by Anna Quindlen for my book club.  Surprisingly it is very different from another book of hers I listened to, Every Last One.  Instead it is more like something written by Fannie Flagg.  Anyway, in this book the main character is a 60 year old woman and one of the sub-plots is about her mother in a nursing home suffering from dementia.  The family members feel frustrated and hurt when they go to visit the old woman and she doesn't even recognize them.  I can totally relate to that since my own mother starved herself to death due to dementia only a few years ago.  When I heard the audio book I wasn't sad for what I lost, but sad for how I might hurt my own children one day (if I survive 7/12/17).

Another character in the book says his mother died when he was 18 and the main character wonders which is better - to lose them too soon or too late.  That is something I hope we debate in book club.

Obviously it would seem like too late is better because at least you can use the time in between to build memories.  Which reinforces for me my thoughts of last week about making this year's birthday more special and specifically seeking to create memories for my kids.

My Last Birthday

My birthday is at the end of September.  This could be the last birthday I ever have!  I suppose anyone could say that since tomorrow is never a guarantee.  Most people don't have prophetic dreams that lead them to believe they know when they will die.  But I did.  And so I consider the very real possibility . . .  how do I want to spend my birthday?

My son the musician is playing a show the night before.  He plays a lot of shows - I go to very few of them.  So I will go to this show.  And next year, if I'm not here, he'll remember me on my birthday and think how nice it was that I was at his show.  (With my attendance record it might be the last show I attend, as well.)

Recently I read that the Brazilian restaurant now offers Sunday brunch and it is a bit more economical than their dinner package.  My daughter and I have birthdays four days apart.  I hope we can have a mother/daughter brunch there this year.  Usually we get together near our birthday and do something or other but I hope a special brunch will make an extra special memory for her too.

And for my husband and youngest child still at home?  Well, we make special memories every day.  My husband is not much on celebratng birthdays so typically I just pick up my favorite pizza and a DVD.  This year my fifth grader wants to go to a kids event that falls on my birthday so maybe I can convince my husband to take me to  real movie.  A real movie will surely be nice but not so much about creating a special memory as just a convenience while the kid is at the event instead of the usual grocery shoppong that I do while I wait for the kid.  I suppose it might somehow be a nice memory for me when I'm on my death bed.  I'll definitely want to pick a light-hearted movie!

Ominous Dreams

After spending the last five years working in a small town east of my home, two years for one school district and three for another that I very much loved, I am now working for a different district in a small town to the west of my home.  I made the change in the hopes that it will lead to career advancement by expanding my network and opening the door to a teaching position that I've been seeking for the last 18 months, to no avail.

A couple weeks before school started I had a few dreams that indicated that I would have some sort of problem in my new district.  So much so that I joined a teacher's association, similar to a union, just for an extra layer of protection.  School started, dreams stopped, so far - so good.

Last night I dreamed that my special messenger abandoned me.  (See The History of My Dreams link at top right for reference.)  Surprisingly I'm not as upset by the dream as I would think I would be.  Because this messenger is not a part of my daily life, I've often wondered how I would know if death finds them before me.  I believe it is just something I will know, something I will feel internally, corporally.  Today I woke up at peace.  Unlike when my host-dad died in Brasil, I felt it coming for days.  For days I was dreading and worrying and knew that something wasn't right.  He died suddenly of a heart attack but from a continent away I seemed to have sensed it coming.  That was the first time I noticed a prophetic dream.

So last night's dream is concerning but not bothersome.  I almost feel a sense of relief, ALMOST.  I've known for almost three years that something is coming.  It's like hearing the weather forecast a storm and later you see the wind start to pick up and the sky grow dark.  It's confirmation of my expectations.

Too Late For a New Tradition?

One day I had two songs in my head jumbled together.  I texted my son, a musician, and told him how Seal's "Kiss from a Rose" and Shawn Mendes' "Stitches" kept playing a mash-up in my mind.  He commented that their chord progressions sound very similar.

Another day I had a lyric stuck in my head and I thought maybe he would enjoy a text-game of Complete the Lyric.  I frequently have snippets of songs in my head and thought maybe I'd start a new habit of texting him partial lyrics for him to complete.  Then I suddenly imagined 10 1/2 months from now if I'm not here anymore that would be one more thing for him to miss about me.  So maybe I shouldn't start doing it on a regular basis.

Fictional Logic

A few months ago I was in between book club books - finished and turned one in, hadn't made it by a different library to pick up the next one yet, so I picked up a book from my "Want to Read" shelf.  I've already got them organized in the basic order I want to read them and I was in a hurry on my way to work so I just grabbed "The Baron's Apprenctice".  I think I picked this book up at my church rummage sale after it was over and they were just begging people to carry stuff off so they didn't have to deal with it.  The back of the book made it sound like a genealogy mystery with maybe some history and romance mixed in.  Once I actually started reading the book there were a few pages up front that explained how the author had already done several books like this one that were retelling Scottish or Irish folk stories.  It also went on to talk about all the religious basis and how this is the third book in the series of a central character and demonstrated the religious growth of that character.  

Okay, well, I'm not anti-religion so I'll keep reading; it's all I have available at the moment anyway.

So the book was a little dry, the print was tiny, and the wording was antiquated.  But underneath it all the story was enjoyable.  

What was most intriguing to me is one character who is mad at God because her son, the one of her three children she loved the most, was taken from her.  She doesn't think there could be a God if cruel things like that happen and shows up at church every week to sit in her pew and read trashy French novels.  The priest visits her at home and points out that if there is no God then there is no Heaven so then her son must be where, in  Hell?  She was shocked that the priest would imply that her son was anywhere but in Heaven.  However, he points out, if she wants to believe that her son is in Heaven, then there must be a loving God who welcomed him there.

The author said it more eloquently than I but I believe I captured the concept.  While I can't say I personally have known anyone who feels this way, I know people who know people who do.  If I ever have an opportunity to speak to such a person I hope I remember this logic.

Generally Healthy

I think I take my health for granted.  Since I started working in schools five years ago, I can count on one hand the number of times I've been sick.  

I used to be sick more often.  Ten or fifteen years ago when I telecommuted I remember being often glad I worked from home so I could blow my nose and not have to worry about coughing on anyone.  I remember being sick on business trips.

I don't really know what was the catalyst for change.  Maybe less airplane travel?

There are ten women in my bookclub and it seems like any given month at least one of them are sick.  (I really don't think it is an excuse, I think it is a legitimate sickness.)

And just recently someone I thought was healthy had a heart problem, someone else who seemed like she would outrun anything that came her way got cancer for the second time - this time in the colon, and a couple other distant relatives were hospitalized for some reason or other.

Yet I walk around with nary a sniffle but a nagging feeling that I will die of some illness on 7/12/17.