faith, flotsam

Catching my breath

The last image I have – the only image that remains – is having become aware of imminent danger in the split second before someone behind me pulls a plastic bag over my head and around my neck.

Fear and struggle are mingled with thoughts that attempt to parse out some strategy to save my life; my mind comforting itself in the thought that since it’s plastic not wire then maybe, just maybe, if I can just think clearly and act wisely, there’s a way I can get free…

That lasts only a moment, however. I don’t experience any of the terror, panic or struggle that should follow the event…

Because I wake up with a start.

Nightmare imagery notwithstanding, the day begins more or less as always: the rituals of preparations to go to work, the commute, the arrival, the rapid gear shifts from startup to productivity.

Still, the image in the dream stays with me, not something I can fully dismiss as just too many reruns of Criminal Minds.

Days pass. The accompanying fear of the moment is long gone, barely even a memory — but that one wisp of the dream imagery is still sharp.

Reasoning my way through it. A potentially terminal threat delivered via a surprise attack, and my mind’s attempts to work out a plan for self-preservation. Mirroring, I suppose, the sudden shock of events at work, the way it leaves us all gasping for air…   and a feeling that it’s truly best not to flail, not to panic — but also for me, for now, it’s not the right time to sit back and patiently wait it out to see what fate others might plan for me.

Oxygen is not optional.
So I try to get the lay of the land, and I make my plans accordingly — but I know there’s only One whose plans for me can be trusted to be best, who is trustworthy to be waited on, who is Sovereign over my life and circumstances and all things.

LORD, it’s YOUR plan that I most want to see!

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