December IS Coming

If you could peak into my dreams you will see a man, with beautiful frosted white hair, the dirtiest fingernails imaginable, wearing blue overalls. In the left front pocket of the overalls you can find a tissue, a phone, a pen, and a note pad. He’s sitting in a chair in a big white barn. Surrounding him are tools, tractors, and tons of miscellaneous trash that are this man’s treasures. He’s listening to talk show radio and working on his next treasure. You pull up in the long gravel driveway. Leaving dust in your review mirror. You park, slam shut the door to your black truck, that the man you see found and made a treasure just for you, and you walk to him.

“Hey babe”, he says as he gives you the biggest hug you can ever imagine. The man stands tall. You look up to him. Not just in height but in life. He’s passionate, he’s determined, he’s stubborn, but he’s humble, he’s soft, and he cries whenever he sees you do well. He loves. And you can feel that love with the man’s hugs. After he says the two words to you, he gets ready to go. You stand there wondering where he’s headed. He kisses you, and says “I love you, Babe”, and he leaves. You then sit in the mans chair, staring at all tools, tractors, and trash. You think to yourself, “it takes someone special to come up with a way to make all this trash into a treasure”. You walk to your truck, get in, and then slam the door to the treasure the man made, that was once trash, then, you wake.

Reoccurring dreams have happened to me in life. I’ve had 3. One from when I was little that was a nightmare, the second–the past year– not considered a nightmare, but definitely not considered a good dream, and the one above is the third. It’s been coming and going the past two months.

It’s getting chilly on campus, I’m wearing sweaters, scarves, and jeans to school. Chilly weather means December is coming. December means one year since my grandpa has passed away. As it gets closer, the more I want to believe it isn’t true.

I live 20 minutes from campus (bus time). The bus drops me off by the gas station about a half a mile from my apartment.

Two weeks ago I got off and started my walk to my apartment. At the gas station, I saw a man, in overalls, get in his truck, and drive away. I said outloud “thank you grandpa, I needed that today” I firmly believe he sent me a little sign telling me he was there with me.
I’ve been wanting a “sign” or  tattoo  for that matter of my grandpas handwriting of “I love you” for about 8 months now. That day, I decided to go make an appointment with an artist to get it done. Having grandpa on my wrist saying “I love you” any time I need it is a beautiful feeling.

On campus, it’ll get chillier, I’ll pack on more layers, and December will continue to get closer, and everyday I’ll “hear” him say “I love you”, and I’m becoming content with that.

“You are precious in my eyes, and honored, and I love you” Is. 43:4
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