Drawing Dreams

She was walking with her father holding his hand.
She was skipping like little girls do.
It was a bitterly cold day and she was wearing her winter boots.
I heard the sound of the boots against the ground.

I was bringing my husband’s suit to the cleaners.
I was holding the suit tightly as the wind whipped around me.
I left the cleaners with my receipt in my hand.
I should have put the paper in my wallet since the wind was doing its best to steal it.

Then I heard it.
A blood curdling cry coming from a car that was across the parking lot from mine.
It was the father and the little girl.
He was trying desperately to buckle her car seat but she wanted no part of that.

I want her. I want her, Daddy.
I heard his muffled response as he still attempted to fasten the buckle.
Find her, Daddy. Find her.
I wondered what the little girl lost.

Let me get you in your car seat first and then I will look for her, he said kindly.
There was no consoling this little one.
Something was lost.
Something that she desperately needed.

But I can’t sleep without her, Daddy.
There it was.
The infamous lost toy; the favorite toy to cuddle with in order to fall asleep.
Every parent can relate; this scene has played out in most families at one time or another.

I wondered if the toy was in the parking lot.
I did a swift check of the surrounding area to see if she dropped her beloved toy.
The toy that she cannot sleep without was nowhere to be found.
How I hoped her daddy found it in the car somewhere.

I had to leave without ever knowing if the lost toy was found.
I said a quick prayer for the father and his little girl.
It was early in the morning when I saw them.
Their day was not starting out too well.

My children had favorite things that they needed to cuddle with in order to sleep.
My oldest daughter had Teddy, who was the quintessential Velveteen Rabbit.
His nose was loved off, his arms and legs were worn in places, and his little red heart was gone.
My second daughter had Tiger, which was really a lion, but not to her.

My oldest son carried a blanket so I affectionately called him, my Linus.
My youngest son had Rumple Bear, which was perfect for hugging really tightly.
My youngest daughter liked to have a blanket on her pillow at night.
Each of these things brought them comfort as they slept.

I thought of my youngest daughter as I drove out of the parking lot.
I remember when she would have scary dreams.
I would ask her to tell me about it but she never could articulate what made her afraid.
Then one morning, I had an idea.

This daughter loved to draw.
There was always a crayon in her hand.
I decided that if she couldn’t tell me about her scary dream, maybe she could draw it.
I remember the day I put this idea to the test.

One morning she got up early.
I was already downstairs.
I had a scary dream Mommy, she told me as she was rubbing her eyes.
Can you tell me about it? I asked as she shook her head, no.

Can you draw your dream for me?
She stopped rubbing her eyes and looked at me with her eyes wide open.
Draw it? she asked trying to understand what was being asked of her.
I gave her a large piece of paper and the bucket of crayons.

As I made her breakfast, she sat at the kitchen island and began to draw.
I would glance over at her, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.
She was busy drawing, picking crayons of various colors.
As I finished making her breakfast, she put the last crayon down.

Is that a picture of your dream? I asked.
She shook her head while looking at what she just drew.
Tell me about it, I said as I sat next to her.
She proceeded to tell me her dream, pointing to the picture as she explained.

To my mother’s eye, the dream was not at all scary.
But to a little girl, it was very real and bothersome.
Do you know what you’re going to do now? I asked as she watched my face for the answer.
You are going to rip up that bad dream and throw it away.

She looked at me in disbelief.
You got the bad dream out, you told me about it; it’s not scary anymore, I announced.
She got up from the chair with new found confidence.
She took her paper with the scary dream that she drew and she ripped it up.

She walked purposefully to the trashcan and threw the bad dream away.
All gone, she said with surety.
All gone, I repeated as I closed the pull-out cabinet where the trash can was kept.
She got back on the chair and ate her breakfast.

We always had devotions in the morning, reading a verse or a small passage from the Bible.
This was what we did every morning as I prayed with each of my children.
I remember our verse from that morning.
I even remember our prayer.

When I am afraid, I will trust in You. In God whose word I praise, in God I trust;
I will not be afraid. (Psalm 56:3,4)

I praised God that even when we have scary dreams, we can trust Him.
I praised God that He hears us and He cares about us.
I thanked Him for being with us and for never leaving us.
I reminded both of us that we have nothing to fear.

My daughter’s bad dream was drawn, discussed, and then discarded.
Her faith was strengthened as she realized that God hears and God sees.
God is bigger than even the scariest dream.
That scary dream had no power over her.

That is not just truth for a little girl.
That is a promise that in Christ we can claim.
God hears and God sees, and because He loves us, God cares.
How I wish I could have told that little girl with the lost toy.

For He grants sleep to those He loves. (Psalm 127:2)
He really does!
A little child needs to know that.
We adults need to know that, as well.