I was standing in the middle of nowhere.
The land around me was wild and untamed. The ground was damp from the previous night’s rain and puddles were scattered throughout the landscape. I stood on the line of a sandy desert slowly transforming into a grassy prairie land. It was overcast but refreshing. There were people on both sides of me and we were standing behind a white line. To my horror, my stomach was protruding showing that I was a few weeks pregnant. Without warning, a man standing on the sidelines shot off a gun and the race began.
The fact that I was pregnant and running a race was a reality that I couldn’t shake. It seemed absurd to be doing what I was doing. Even more horrifying was the stark end of the track mere feet in front of me. There was a drop for sure, and I had no idea how deep the cliff was, but I didn’t stop running.
I jumped off the edge.
My feet came into view for the first time as I sailed down many feet of air- there were no shoes on my feet. A thousand fears flashed through my mind:
I’m pregnant. I have no shoes, I’m falling down a cliff, and I have no idea what I’m going to land on. Is there glass beneath me? Sharp rocks? Will my baby live?
To my surprise, I landed gently on lush, green moss and was unhurt. It took me a moment to gather myself from the shock. Runners behind me had jumped and began running again. They were in proper running clothes and shoes; a sharp contrast to the brown dress and head covering I was wearing without shoes. The gravel path had veered sharply to the left and they had continued running without question. I turned to run, then hesitated. Something to the right had caught my eye: a different path. It was much smaller, and it was made from the same moss I had landed on after jumping from the cliff. Instinctively, I knew this path had been made specifically for me. My deeply vulnerable state was no secret. In that moment it was apparent to me that this path had been paved in kindness and gentleness for me because I needed it. I turned away from the gravel road and rushed down the mossy path, holding my pregnant belly as I ran.
Both paths led to the same destination, but I knew I would get there before everyone else. I felt a surge of excitement course through me as the end came into view. At the finish line there was a small, metal box that resembled a mailbox. It contained little stubs of paper. I picked one out to see what they were. They were checks, each was worth a different amount. Some worth slightly more and some slightly less, but all in the $300 price range. I picked mine out and stopped to stare at it. The other runners had caught up with me again. They took their check without stopping and continued running.
I didn’t want to continue running; all my effort and zeal came to a crashing halt.
What was I even doing? What was I supposed to do with this paper?
Oftentimes in dreams being pregnant means the person is “giving birth” to an idea or plan. The race I was running is my personal path with the Lord in ministry through the Ember Prayer Room. I was running towards the same goal as many others, but the way I got there was different.
The Lord knew what I needed and what I could (and couldn’t) handle in order to attain the goal. In this season, I have felt the Lord’s powerful and intentional protection over my heart. He knows all the things going through my mind and all the places I’ve been wounded. He is aware and He has prepared a path for me (He always does) because he knows what I specifically need.
To me, the end indicates that I’m striving for a goal that I do not completely understand or appreciate at this time. In fact, I may not be able to appreciate it once I’ve reached it either. I didn’t feel angry when I got the check in my dream, I was just confused. I woke with the sense that the Lord wanted to begin another journey with me- He wanted to show me the full measure of what I had been given.