The Little Fawn and the Brave Boy


I had a dream several weeks ago. I have debated whether or not to post about it, but I have received so much peace from it, I have decided to share it. I thought of not posting it because I may sound crazy, but many of you already know that to be true, and the rest of you are bound to find out sooner or later, so here it goes.

Oh wait (please), before I tell you about the dream, I must read you an excerpt from my journal on November 20th, 2014:

“Lord, here I am feeling jealous when I should be rejoicing. Each new pregnancy reminds me that life is forming, and perhaps my child is being formed in his/her mother’s womb. Can I pray for a name so I can pray specifically? Lord, please send me my first child’s name. Is it ok that I ask for that? How will I know? Will the name stand out? The only name I can think of right now is Lafawnduh…Hah!”

No, I do not think the name of my first born will be Lafawnduh, however, it did give me a laugh. Several weeks after that entry, on the night of December 4th, is when I had the dream:

God appeared to me and Dean and explained to us that He would let us go ahead in time for one day. He would choose the day and when the day was over we were to go back to our lives in the present. We agreed and were instantly standing together in our kitchen. It was early morning and I was suddenly aware that we had two children, however, they were still asleep in their beds. Dean and I anxiously awaited the entrance of our children: I passed the time by making breakfast, and he drinking his coffee at the table with his eyes on the doorway.

I was so nervous to meet them for the first time, although it wasn’t really for the first time, or was it? The time travel thing always confuses me. But either way, I was nervous. Would they be everything I dreamed they would be? Would they be like us? Would they be good and loving? Would they be obnoxious and unbearable? And then SHE came awkwardly scuffling through the door, my daughter, my oldest, a girl of 7 or 8. She was perfect! My breath caught in my throat as I tried to wish her a good morning without crying (that would probably freak her out right?) I was so overjoyed I had to turn to the eggs on the stove to keep her from witnessing my tears. I wiped the tears away, turned to face her, and saw her sitting at the table next to Dean, her dad. She was reserved and quiet, tall and slim for her age, and had dark chestnut hair. She was beautiful and a little awkward. She had that “my limbs are too long for my body” type look, almost like a little deer.

I couldn’t remember her name when I woke up, but she so reminded me of a little deer. She accepted my hug, but did not return it, however her affection for me was clear; this was not her first time meeting me. She had loved me dearly for 7 years already and I knew that as a fact. My heart swelled as I studied her and cherished the short moments I had left.

Then suddenly my attention was pulled away from her perfect face as a scrambling, clunking, boy of 5 burst into the room. He had blonde hair that almost glowed white and a face that resembled Dean’s; complete with a spattering of freckles and a mischievous smile. His laugh filled the room and practically made my heart explode. He jumped into my arms and toppled me to the kitchen floor with kisses and hugs. To my astonishment Dean joined the hug pile and so did our daughter. I guess even “non touchy” people can’t resist a good hug sometimes. I was so happy. Dean was so happy. Then I looked into my boy’s eyes, the same eyes as his father’s, he was almost a clone of Dean at his age, and I knew his name. He was Casey.

Dean Age 6

Dean Age 6

The dream continued, but it doesn’t seem of much consequence. My sister in law was living with us and Bulgy the cat was still alive and living in our shed. At some point he turned into a black bear…so I don’t think the rest of the dream really matters.

But when I woke up I felt peaceful and intrigued. Why the name Casey for a boy? But it fit him so well. He was mischievous but had so much passion and feeling- the perfect blend of me and Dean. I decided to look up the name Casey to see what it meant: “Brave. Refers to the biblical acacia wood that was used to build the wilderness Tabernacle.” How cool! But Casey, is not a family name, and I always dreamed of having a Dean IV. Why Casey?

And why couldn’t I remember HER name? I decided to search for girl names that meant “deer” and burst out laughing when I saw the name “Fawn: Young deer. The Greek mythological deity of fertility and nature was Fauna.” I had just remembered my journal post back from November, and the name Lafawnduh. I still don’t think her name is Lafawnduh, but I do think the name Fawn captures her quiet spirit and slim frame. Another name that means deer is “Tabitha: beauty, grace. From the Aramaic word for Gazelle. Biblical – Tabitha of the New Testament was noted for good works.” I could see having a Tabitha.

But what does this all mean? Does it even mean anything? It seems a little crazy to think my life might actually turn out that way – that I could see a day of my future. I don’t know if it’s real, but I do think it’s a gift. I was certain Casey was biologically mine and Dean’s, however his name didn’t make sense if he was. And Fawn, I wasn’t sure if she was adopted or not, it didn’t really matter. They were perfect, they were beautiful, they were ours. I don’t think this dream is supposed to be figured out. It was simply a gift for me to enjoy. Trying to figure it out would take away the simple joy of it.

Several days ago I received another gift: The Passion Translation of the book Song of Songs. I started to read it and was instantly drawn to Chapter 2 Verses 10 and 11:

“Arise, my dearest.

Hurry, my darling.

Come along with me!

I have come as you have asked

To draw you to my heart and lead you out.

For now is the time, my beautiful one.

The season has changed,

The bondage of your

Barren winter has ended,

And the season of hiding is over and gone.”

Oh, how long I have felt as barren as the earth in deepest winter. Oh, how I have felt the spring would never come. I have desired to bloom and be as beautiful as those that live as if it were always spring: plenty of rain and plenty of sun, an abundance of color, and always growing.

I know now that winter is not about death, I thought it was at first. I wanted to die, I wanted it to be over, I did not want to face the cold, barren winter ahead. I was once a tree with beautiful green leaves and blossoming flowers, but then they all died. Each blossom, each leaf, was scorched. It seemed that everything fell from me. Everything that made me worth looking at and enjoying was gone. I could not provide shade, nor beauty. I felt dead and believed I was as good as.

But I was not dead. There was something going on deep, below the surface. Something that kept me alive. I continued to take in nourishment. I no longer put energy into growing leaves or flowers, I put my energy into my roots. I hunkered deep down into my foundation, finding strength and peace. When the cold winds blew my branches about, I found solace in the fact that I no longer feared the wind blowing away my leaves and flowers, for I had none. I found peace in the knowledge that with each blasting gust, the weak branches were being pruned from me. They lay scattered about my trunk, no longer choking the living branches, but instead, waiting to decompose and then in turn make the soil around my roots rich with nutrients.

But the winter is over! It might be the beginning of February for you, but for me it is the beginning of April. My season of hiding is over, I am ready to bloom once again. But my branches are a little different this year. I am a little stronger, I am a little wiser, and although I do not have as many branches, and they do not reach as far as they once did, I am certain they will produce brilliant blooms, and wonderful shade. I know this because my roots have the strong growth from the necessary season of winter.

I truly believe all these things are connected. I believe God is preparing me for motherhood. I believe this barren time was not a time of waiting, but a time of foundational growth. Life is not put on hold during the winter, it is still very much alive, it is just a different kind of living. I believe the time draws near when Dean and I will become parents. I’m not sure how it will happen, but I can’t wait to meet my little fawn and my brave boy.



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