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A Visit in His Heavenly Home

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I had the most enlightening dream about my father. My daughter and I entered a very spacious living room. I saw furniture, and to my left was an opening that led into a bedroom. There was a king-sized bed that was set in a beautifully designed wood frame. I looked around, and then came to a wall full of pictures. Every picture was in a frame, and the pictures consisted of snapshots. I noticed pictures of my daughters and me in random shots: in the park, swimming, laughing, etc. I even noticed pictures of family members that had already passed from this earth. As I looked at these pictures I began to say out loud to my daughter, “I do not recall ever taking these pictures!” She smiled at me as she took in all the pictures as well.


Then, out of nowhere, my father came into the room. I took a look at him, and my heart leapt with joy. He was dressed in his favorite long-sleeve blue-jean shirt, rolled up at the elbows. He was also in his jeans and boots. He was young looking, and was a picture of good health. Of course, I made a mental note that this was how I always wanted to remember my father. Not in a bed, being eaten up with cancer. I didn’t want to remember how his hair turned white, and his body swelled from the fluid and medicine, and how he ached from every move of his body because the cancer had made its way to his bones. No, when I looked at Dad, he was young and healthy, and looked as far from pain as could be.


I looked at him strangely and asked, “What are you doing here?” He chuckled at me saying, “This is my home, silly.” I looked, and saw several rooms. I walked around saying, “You live here?” He would reply, “Yes, of course!” He had a big grin on his face. I asked, “You eat here? Sleep here?” Again, “Yes silly, are you okay?” It was as though I had been there before, but just didn’t remember, and the way he was behaving, it was as though I was the one that had been away from “home” and returned where he had been all this time.


I walked into his room and sat on his bed. I started crying, saying, “Dad, I want to meet him. I want to meet Jesus.” Dad smiled at me and said, “You will, it’s just not your time.”


Then I walked to the living room, where the wall was filled with pictures, turned and asked, “Dad, where did all of these pictures come from? I don’t remember taking any of these.” Dad walked up, and grinned from ear-to-ear saying, “I took them! See, I can’t see you all the time. God doesn’t allow me to see sin. I only get to see you all in happy times. So, when this happens, God opens the window, and allows me to see you and the family, and take pictures to hang here on my wall.” I asked him about the ones of people like Grandma, who was there in Heaven with him. He simply replied, “We do things here like anyone else. We eat, have visits, take pictures, etc. But we are not sick or unhappy.” I looked at my dad once again, and smiled at him, and then I woke up.


When I woke up, I had such peace in my spirit. It had made so much sense to me. Of course Dad would not be able to see me or my family in times of weakness and sin.


Having that dream made me very aware of how I live my life. I want my dad to see us all the time. So for me, I do my best to be happy, and do happy things: go to church, praise God, work, and take care of my family—all in hopes that the window never closes!


What a dream! I miss my dad, but I know all I have to do is close my eyes, and he’s here with me every time!

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