This morning, I dreamed that my wife and I were driving somewhere together, and then in a cradle between us appeared a beautiful, fair-complected, fiery red-headed baby girl wearing a white dress. She could not have been more than 1 year of age. She was smiling and endearing to me, wonderful to behold.
I told my wife, “I don’t remember that we have a baby girl.” But, at that moment, I had memory of having a baby girl, named Gayla. I then held and carefully hugged Gayla, happy child, for she was soft and delicate in every way. And, I was happy.
According to my brief research, Gayla may be a derivative of the Hebrew name “Avichayil” (Abigail) which means “exalted father” or “father of exaltation.”
I am blessed to have had this dream, and to have seen and held this child. To me, it was indeed a “gala,” a festive event.
For those wondering: no, we have had no children of which we are aware, except for the child we miscarried, who my wife named Maddie. She says she has seen Maddie in dreams and in prayer, characterizing her like a little, strong and courageous St. Joan of Arc doing battle against demons alongside St. Michael the Archangel. Isn’t that interesting?
May God be praised. Amen.
Gayla is far more beautiful than this dear child. Can you imagine that?
Posted in Catholic, Catholicism, Children, Christian, Faith, Family, Fatherhood, God the Father, Godparents, Grief, Infant Jesus, Infertility, Joy, Marriage, Spiritual Motherhood, Waking Dreams
God grants the favor of a glimpse of her face. She is not an angel, but a human soul who, in heaven, appears as a toddler.
In my waking thoughts in the morning, I tend to express gratitude to the Lord for all of His help. Sometimes I don’t feel like expressing gratitude – when my body is complaining about waking up. But there are times when my body cooperates quite well with my spirit, and gratitude flows more easily. This morning, I was also thinking about my dear Great Aunt Bertha who died some years ago but with whom I was very close – she was my God-mother. In the thinking of her, I was given a spontaneous glimpse of a little girl’s face in a calm and shaded place – a toddler who had a sweet baby face and her hair was all “done up” as if she had been to the hair dresser, just like my Aunt Bertha would do. I could imagine that this was my Great Aunt Bertha, because she certainly lived the life of a saint, and she had her hair dressed as if this was a clue to me about her identity. I believe she is there with God and that God wants me to know this.