Song Stuck on the Brain: God Will Take Care Of You. I was putting together a Sunday school lesson and had to choose a hymn for the kids to learn. Once I picked this one, I couldn't stop singing it. Thankfully, it's one I really like and you can't get reminders like that often enough, right?
WOW! I think I've hit a new record with contest entries. Keep 'em coming, the contest closes Sunday night at midnight. If you don't win this one though, don't worry, there are a lot more free books coming. Possibly even more autographed by the author. So thanks for playing and pass the word on to your friends.
Okay, I thought my dream the other night was odd, but last night's was strange and funny at the same time.
I was sitting at home, when my dad called and said, "I have some bad news."
"Granny Boo died last night."
Granny is Dad's mom and my last surviving grandparent. "Oh no! How did she die?"
"In child labor."
He said this like it was completely normal. "What!? Child labor, what are you talking about?"
"She died in child labor." He said it slowly so that it would sink into my poor befuddled brain.
"How could she die in child labor?" Obviously my brain was still refusing to accept this answer.
"She died having her baby." Dad is getting that overly patient tone you use with five-year-old's that keep asking the same question.
"She's 85, how could she be having a baby? Why didn't I even know she was pregnant? How could this happen? Why didn't I know?" The questions tumble out in stunned confusion.
"She got pregnant. I thought you knew. I was sure we mentioned it."
"No, you didn't."
"Well, she had a girl. She stated in her will that if anything happened to her, she wanted you to raise the baby. They named her May after Granny. She's in Springfield with your Aunt Donna and Uncle Jim. You need to make arrangements to go down and collect her and sign the papers."
I'm still amazed at how calm Dad sounds. "May?" I repeat. May is Granny's middle name and one that she had always hated. "They named her May?"
"Yeah, she's really cute. Black curly hair, chubby cheeks." Dad sounds happy.
"You've seen her?" I'm even more at a loss now.
"Jim and Donna sent pictures through the email."
"Oh." I was speechless. I'd just inherited a baby.
That was pretty much the end of the dream. I was thinking about it this morning and got to laughing because the mental image of my 85 year old granny 9 months pregnant is just really strange. (Yes, I could actually picture it.) Plus, it occurred to me that I'd be raising my aunt as my own daughter and Dad's granddaughter would also be his sister. That old song about "I'm my own Grandpa" ran through my head and it was just too funny.
I think I know what triggered this one. I was reading in the old testament just before bed late last night and I read a portion of the story about Abraham and Sarah and how she conceived at such an old age. It must have stuck in my subconscious.
Angel thinks I have a preoccupation with babies and giving birth. I'm beginning to think she's right. I've had so many dreams over the last 10 years about those two topics I'm beginning to feel as if I could commiserate with my pregnant friends. How weird is that? I guess I'm fine for now. But the first time I say, "Oh I know, the baby thinks my bladder is a trampoline." or "I know how you feel, they just kick so hard!" I'm checking in to the first mental hospital I see.
Oh well, enough of my crazy dreams for now. It's nearly 1 am, time to go dream something new.