Where is my treasure?

In other words, where's my stuff? Years ago, the catch phrase was, "Who moved my cheese?" Same thing. So, did I lose it, misplace it, or forget where I left it? None of these answers that question.

You see, "where's my stuff" refers more to "what do I value most?". This week's devotional for our "How to Be Rich" series pointed us to Matthew 6:19-34. In this passage it speaks to our prized possessions and what we worry about, paraphrasing.

In studying this, it brought to mind two dreams I had many, many years ago in which I was frightened about things. The first one was not as distinct in images as the latter but just as powerful still.

Background for information: I was living in Los Angeles (valley area) in a small duplex. My life was relatively calm and peaceful and yet there was a nagging feeling that I was missing out on something. Pushing that aside, I lived my life in ordinary fashion. One night, however, I awoke to sweats and terrors that I couldn't sweep away with thoughts of daisies and smiley faces. In the dream, I was being surrounded by a dark menacing cloud, if you will. It was trying to break in. Did it want to steal things? Maybe, but most of all, it felt as if it wanted to steal me, that it wanted to kill me. I remember waking up in tears, breathing like I had just run a marathon. The fear within me was palpable, inconsolable and irreconcilable. Why was I so frightened? I lived in a relatatively safe neighborhood for the valley. Yes, there was the occasional stabbing, rape, murder within my sphere of contact, but nothing imminent to me. And yet, here I was afraid in my own home. I lay there for what seemed like hours waiting on the dawn as if magical powers would eminate from the sun and sweep away all the thoughts of this new boogey man in my head. While I laid there, I realized that I had two choices and only two.

One, I could check out of life and stay forever in my bed with the covers drawn hiding behind the invisible force field of strength and protection which automatically comes with a down comforter; or two, I could do something about it. But what could I do? I could put bars on my windows and doors. (It was L.A. remember, everyone has them.) Yes, that would protect me from the thing that wanted me. And nothing says hospitality like a set bars on all the openings of an abode, right? What would my friends think? I could get an alarm system similar to Fort Knox, that would do it. It would also cost more than I made in 2 or 3 months even though my place was tiny. But, I'd lived on mac and cheese before, I could do it again.

No, things had to be resolved in a more civilized way which meant I would have to fight the fear from within. When I was 14, living in TN, I had gone to church several times with a friend from school and through that brief indoctrination realized that I "needed Jesus", so one Sunday I made the long walk down the aisle and made that commitment. I also followed up with a water baptism-full-on immersion. But that was years ago and I hadn't really thought much of it or done any follow up to it. Hadn't been to church in forever. Certainly wasn't living the lifestyle that I was pretty sure I ought to be (remember it was L.A. in the 80's). But here I was cowering in all out terror from some perceived danger with no way out on my own. So I prayed. Nothing flowery or churchy, more desperate and pathetic. It was in that moment, that I felt a paradigm shift. A rift in the fabric of my time continuum. I had fallen into some blissful state of consciousness and serenity, a place that felt impervious to all outside threats.

Wow, it was like placing my head on my dad's shoulder as a small girl and having his arm tightly wrapped around me. It evoked that same overwhelming sense of safety and security. So, that was that. Fear gone. Prayed it away. Hah, you can't get me boogey man! I got Jesus! And He will mess you up! So, did I run right to church. No. That would have been too easy. But what I did do was realize that the only reason I lived in L.A. was because of a job and a few good friends. Life in the fast lane was really too fast for me. Did my peace of mind not matter anymore? Yes, it did and I knew in my heart of hearts that I was in the wrong place. So, I picked up my life and moved back to TN. No job, no home, just back where I felt "safe". My life fell apart once there but fell back together into a much better picture after it was all said and done. Which leads me to my second dream.

Background: Fast forward ten years, I am married to a wonderful man, mother to two beautiful children, member of local church, and owner of comfortable home. It was this comfortable home which gave me the nightmare. Life was just tooling along for me until one night I awoke from another heart-gripping, sweat-inducing panic-driven dream. You see, our new home had these beautiful windows on the front of it which went from the floor to almost the ceiling in the front two bedrooms (our girls' rooms). Our bedroom was on the other side of the house (which seemed like a good idea at the time and did prove to be an asset later). Earlier in the week, a news story had rocked the world about a girl who had been kidnapped from her home through a window, Polly Klaas. It was this horrible incident, I believe, that triggered my dream (as I'm sure it did others as well). In my dream, you guessed it, "someone" was trying to get in to steal my girls. In that all too familiar sense of panic, I lay there trying to convince myself that I was being silly to worry so much.

It was in that moment that I remembered my other dream and the solution to my dilemma. I prayed. It wasn't that hard for me now that I was a growing, practicing believer in Christ. As I humbly asked the Lord to give me peace, in my dream, or mind's eye, or whatever you want to call it, I first saw a man with a big stick moving toward my girls' window. Ok, this was not comforting and for a brief moment my heart skipped a beat. Then, as if unrolling a scroll, more of the image became apparent. The man, who seemed to be about 7 or 8 feet tall in relation to the window frame, gently planted his feet apart in front of the window, taking up a guardian stance. As he was settling into this position, I noticed commotion behind him as a huge set of wings, yes I said wings, ever so slowly unfurled to completely block not only the windows but most of that side of the house. And the stick that I had seen became clear to me as a staff, much like you see in biblical paintings. (Side note: The first time I saw Thomas Kincade's painting of this image, I almost came out of my skin in delight.)

As I took in this whole scene, a sense of not only peace and safety came over me, but one of humor. I realized that most people, possibly myself included, always picture angels as thin, frail, beautiful, aetherial creatures, here to escort people to heaven being their primary job description. But, nope, not my girls' angels. They were big, burly guys with really big staffs with an attitude of defiance toward any intrusion against their charges. I giggled, wondering if this assignment of such imposing guardians to my girls meant that they were going to be "handfuls" and were going to need really tough guys to protect them.

And with that image, placed there for me by a loving Heavenly Father, I was able to truly trust in the Lord with my most prized possessions. He had it covered and I just needed to let Him handle it. So, with that I peacefully glided back to sleep knowing that whatever the world may throw at me, in the words of my favorite tomato, Bob, "God is bigger than the boogey man!"

So, where is your treasure and who do you trust to protect it?