My Son’s Dream – A Place to Buy Friends
My six-year-old son usually wakes up around 7:30. This particular morning, however, he slept in until nearly nine. As soon as he woke, he ran to me and told me about his dream. I asked a couple questions along the way. It went something like this:
In my dream, there was a place you could buy friends.
I chose a little girl in a place that had a door and it was freezing cold there. She didn’t like it there, so I chose her so she didn’t have to be there anymore. If I didn’t get her, they would still replace her with another one and put her in a warmer place. That was the most freezing place. All the water she had there was frozen water.
She had a pink dress, and at the bottom of her shoes, they were purple. If you were there and you thought she was candy, you would think those things of purple looked tasty. There were lots of other girls. Actually, there were only girls. I mean, like, only girls. If you saw on the top of the door, only girls allowed in those things.
Her hair was golden and she had blue eyes … wait. It was brown eyes.
(Do you remember anything else?)
There was another girl that had dirt brown hair. She was really pretty because she had a white necklace and blue and purple earrings, and the best part was that she had green shoes and a green dress.
(Did you talk to the girl with the golden hair?)
I talked to her when I brought her here, because it was warmer here.
(How much were they being sold for?)
Twenty cents. Actually, they were free. The people that brought them there didn’t want them to be so, so, so expensive, especially that girl in the really cold place, so they had her for free, and the rest were free.
It was part house and part shop where you can get friends. Do you know why they sold them? They didn’t have any families so they took them from their homes and all their things, put them on their shelf, and kept them there. That’s why I brought her and her things here.
The thing that was too bad was that it was a dream. I wish it wasn’t a dream.
It’s too bad that I have to be an adult to do that. Can you drive me to a place in America to where I can look at all the houses and see if there are any children that don’t have anyone to take care of them? We can bring them here.
His focus then switched to other things. But that dream paddled me sideways, reminding me of a few things. It has been exactly one year since the idea of foster parenting grabbed hold of me. The feeling was very strong that first month, in June of 2014. It’s faded but never completely disappeared. Another dream that has been with me for far longer, and has also never disappeared, is the desire to be involved in ministry for young mothers and their children. What kind of ministry? I don’t know. There are opportunities all over the world. We send money to some of them when we can. We support a child through Compassion, but I don’t think that’s all I’m meant to do. I don’t think that’s all any of us are meant to do.
Yesterday, I was reading a Bible chapter with the kids. Matthew 25. I read them the end passage, about Jesus’ call to feed the hungry, take in the stranger, visit the sick, clothe the naked, and visit the prisoners. Then I read them the story right before it, the parable of the talents [See Matthew 25:14-30]. We made the connection between the parable and His statement, in that the “talents” — the gifts and skills — that God gives us are meant to be used for His glory, and for us to make a difference in the lives of others.
Was our discussion of those passages and the Compassion Magazine stories we read afterwards the cause of my son’s dream? Part of it, perhaps. Part of it might also have been a nudge for me, that we do need to do more. More for others, for those who suffer needlessly because of the lack of those who care and who can help. As I was looking up Compassion’s website, I noticed something I had never seen before, a page titled “Help Mothers and Babies.” Maybe that’s a place to start.
If your son had a dream like that … if you had a dream like that … where would you start?