Imagery from the Father

I’m walking down a cobblestone path, tall trees arch over encasing the entire walkway but not so much as to crowd out the sunlight pouring in as the trees sway to and fro.

A long haired dog catches my attention through the wispy sunlight down ahead, I do what I believe to be walking towards the dog.

We round a curve and the dog steps out of sight momentarily – as the path straightens out again I see the dog trotting to the left of a petite lady with dark brown hair, braided with a bow, in a blue dress down to her calves and she has a light blue parasol lingering above her head as I can barely make out that her gaze is fixed upon the pup next to her. 

I look further up the road and see a man in a yellow suit, with a flat-top hat on. He’s buying ice cream, I can only catch a profile view of him but the woman pauses as he is grabbing his ice cream from the stand and they turn and walk onwards until I’m distracted by the trees and when I look again they are gone.

A flock of cartoon butterflies flitter across my field of vision – think Mary Poppins when they’re bounding around with the carousel horses.

“A Secret Place”

Is all I can think of.

An invitation to a place that I’ve never known before but somehow felt familiar and welcoming.

 

I go further into the path and stumble upon a cottage enlaced with ivy and flowers budding through and around – a fairytale almost. I walk inside and I hear
“This is yours. This is a place you can always come with me whenever you like. You can keep secrets here or you can invite people in.”

I walk out of the home – outside noises jostle me out of concentration but focusing in guides me back to the pathway in front of the house. I walk onto a dirt road and catch a glimpse of similar structures to the cottage I was just walking through but they are hazy images and separated by long driveways or paths from the doors to the bottom of hills or long walkways.

“You can go in or you can wait for an invitation”

I hesitate but keep my focus on walking the paths.

Then I’m called to attention in another realm of this place – I’m looking around in a room full of my World Race squad – Everyone is dispersed among a large, dimly lit basement-type structure that seems to be unending. It’s damp but warm and cozy. 

I look around at glowing objects that seem to only be visible to me and I look down to see a ball of light – I ask the creator “can we make this more fun?” and instantly the ball of light switches to a childhood memory of “heart crystals” from a show called Sailor Moon – I guide the light hovering in my hands into my chest and feel a warmth and garner a glow. I look around and want everyone to know what that is like and every part of my being, outside of this image and inside is just YEARNING to push that light into other people.

I run up, person by person, each interaction special, each one uniquely received and place these crystals in certain fashions, some people take them some people need help, everyone places them somewhere different, some cant accept yet. Some get fragments of a whole of someone else’s crystals – but as we each take the light we join a procession following the biggest glowing light of warmth and we saunter through this (large room?) 

As we reach the end our leadership is waiting for us, already with their crystals in heart and watch as we walk up to our respective doors.

The first person goes, then the second follows – we each trail out one by one – each exit as different as the receiving of crystals. I linger a little and I peer into the doors emitting magnetic lightwaves and consider stepping in to see what waits ahead for each pathway – A leader stayed behind and asks

“Are you going?”

I tell him just a minute and he gives me a look of endearment as he walks in to his own door. 

I feel the urge to push into every path – from my view outside of the doors theres a see-through plane of lights that ripple with straightened beams in a row for each door – our paths visible to one another perhaps?

“You can choose to go into any of those open doors but trials not meant for you will come and you will not see what I have for you – but you can choose that.”

Free will. Always. 

I take a deep breath, sigh out heavily and walk towards the door and as I push forward I open my eyes and look around a small room, sweaty but chilly from an overworked ceiling fan as my squadmates squeeze their eyes shut – fervently seeking what the Lord has for them.

 

I felt a deep longing and desire for whatever I just experienced to reach them someway somehow.

 

A prayer the previous day or earlier in the day was marked by the imagery of Peter Pan:

“WENDY TAKE HOLD OF MY ANKLE”

“JOHN TAKE HOLD OF MY ANKLE”

“MICHAEL TAKE HOLD OF MY ANKLE”

“WHATEVER HAPPENS. DON’T. LET. GOOOOOO.”

That was my prayer to the Holy Spirit. To give me the gift to reach in, sprinkle pixie dust on the parts of the spirit that live within others, snatch their hands and propel them forward to the second star to the right and straight on til morning – trailing along together taking hold of one another’s ankles as we are just ripped and flitted around by this beautiful spirit of adventure and wander.

Man.

What a day.

God will use everything we got – especially our imagination.