Rescue Mission

March 21, 2013 at 5:15 pm

Last week I wrote:

I have gone back and forth in my head about whether to share that dream publicly. I’m still not certain. But I think I was given that dream because it contains a message not just for me but for all women. And I feel it is my responsibility to share that message. Reading Sarah Hinze’s book today, I felt over and over… it’s time to tell the world what you saw. Hopefully I’ll muster the courage soon.

So I got a big kick in the pants today. Get over to your computer and write about your dream. I haven’t felt ready yet, and I’m still nervous about it. I’m nervous, in part, because I suspect that what I’m about to share will not rest well with some people. I suppose I’m willing to accept that risk.

In January of 2012, I had a dream. Occasionally God speaks to me in dreams. I feel that this was one of those divine messages. Here’s what I saw…

I was walking with someone. I don’t know who it was. The road we were walking down looked like a ghost town. Dark, abandoned buildings. Dirty. Trash everywhere. But we were the only people walking down a deserted road. Eventually, we went over to the gutter on the side of the road, and I picked something up. At first I thought it was just a piece of garbage. But then, as I looked closer, it seemed to transform in my hand. It was a baby!  A tiny baby… only an inch or two or three. It fit in the palm of my hand, and it was alive.

My immediate thought was, “We have to find her parents!” I held her and began searching. As I searched, she grew miraculously (in the space of a few hours) to be five or six years old. A sweet little blonde girl. I took care of her while looking and looking for her parents or at least a suitable home for her. As I cared for her, I felt my heart ache and fill with love for her. Part of me really wanted to keep her, but another part of me thought, “I can’t take care of another kid right now!”

Eventually, after realizing that our search was futile, we brought her to a non-descript building. There was a massive line of children coming from the door. I got the impression that all those children were like her. They were waiting in line because they had nowhere to go. We headed to the back of the line to leave her there, but my heart was torn and breaking. I wanted to keep her, but I also didn’t feel like I could. Then the dream ended. But there was this sort of question hanging over the dream: “Are you willing?”

At first I just thought it was a weird dream. It took me a few days of processing before I really understood that it was a message and what that message was.

A couple of days later, I was lying in bed in the morning, thinking about the dream, and a line from the movie Tron: Legacy came into my mind: “I guess you could say I was a ‘rescue.'” In the film, the main character, Sam, talks about Marv, his rescue dog. So later, Quorra, in telling her story, speaks the line above, referring to herself as a “rescue.”  Suddenly the wheels in my head started turning. And it hit me: I was being sent on a “rescue” mission.

What fell into place in my heart that morning was that the little girl from my dream is a special spirit who has been rejected and cast aside repeatedly, perhaps through abortions. She is hurting, and she desperately wants to come to Earth, to be wanted and loved. I felt that I had been chosen to “rescue” her because I have the compassion and experience to know how to nurture a soul acquainted with abandonment. I felt that she would be bringing some of that heartache with her to Earth and that I had the means within me to help her heal.

And she’s not alone. I feel that I was shown that long line of children because God wants me to help find loving homes for them.  There were countless children in that long line… waiting… hoping… longing. They are the “castaways” in need of rescue. They want to be loved. They want to be wanted. They will come to Earth after eons of waiting, and some of them after repeated rejections and disappointments. Their hearts are tender, and they are in need of special care and nurturing to help them heal from their pre-mortal trials. But they are also “old souls” and full of strength and wisdom. They will be a great blessing to any who will receive them. [I’m not referring to babies lost through miscarriage here. They are an entirely different story and I wouldn’t refer to them as “wounded” or “castaways.” They are not being rejected, so they do not suffer the same heartache. They simply wait excitedly until their chance to go to their mother again.]

The question I feel God was asking me and all of us as nurturing women is: “Are you willing?”