Dreaming

Last night I dreamt that I lived in what could be considered a perfect world.  Quite literally, I mean a perfect world.  Governments fought only occasionally and no one ever went starving or without a home.  I had a great house and a great yard in an quiet American suburb.  I was sitting on my back fence with a great lush yard in summer, excited about the season's prospects, and talking to my aunt Stacey and uncle Paul.  I was happy, until my aunt Stacey told me the news: Although slavery had been banned throughout the whole world for years, it had just started existing again in large scale in Russia and another far away country; I don't remember where.  Suddenly was overcome by this intense feeling of fear and grief for the people in these nations.  I imagined families being torn apart, freedom being lost, and people's opportunities being torn away and held away from them like a bitter and impossible promise.  I was amazed at how easily the breath was sucked out of me and my heart ached in an intense way that surprised me.  I knew I had to do something, wanted to do something, but how?

Nearly immediately after my aunt gave me the news, I turned my head to see across the street two little girls and their father.  Quietly and almost unseen they slipped into the creamy-grey duplex across the way.  I looked a little longer, and the father left.  For some strange reason I knew immediately that this little family was Russian, escaping the ravages of a war in their hometown.  They had been wearing clothes of the last century; it was as if the Bolshevik Revolution had once again taken place.  I wondered what happened to their mother, but placed my guess that the father left so he could try to find and save her.

Later I was wandering on the streets by my yard, and I had the chance to talk to the older little girl.  I don't remember what was said, but I do remember her inquisitive eyes after we talked.

For some reason not long after my conversation with the older little girl, I decided to peak into their house and find what more I could know of this mysterious family.  I walked in; the walls were bare, furniture no longer existent.  I peaked behind the corner of the wall to see the two little girls, still dressed in their turn-of-the-century Russian farming garb, talking in words I couldn't understand, nor did I need to.  I only looked for two seconds when I could tell they became aware of my presence, although if they saw me, it would have been my back as I ran away and out--we never made eye-contact.  I ran away, not because I was scared of being caught, but because I was scared of being caught as the girl who had everything, yet timidly sat outside and did nothing while other people's worlds were tearing apart, including these little girls'.  I had so much to be grateful for, so much to fight for, and I did nothing when I needed to fight for others.

That was the end of my dream--me running out feeling ashamed, emotionally naked, scared, and raw.  The sad thing is I realized my world is not what it was in my dream.  My world is so much worse, and yet I feel so much better about it.  Everyday people go starving, sex-trafficking occurs, natural disasters hit, children are abused... the list goes on.  Sometimes I don't think we fully grasp the reality of the problems of the world until they come up and slap us in the face; it's too overwhelming.  So instead we take all of the problems with the world and we lump them into a category of "Things I Can't Change", and we go back to sitting on our couches and doing nothing, because, well, that's just the way it is, right? I'm one tiny person who can't take on the problems of the world.

Ok, maybe these concerns are legitimate--no one person can fix the world's multiple crises.  But imagine the good that could be done if instead of sitting on their butts to veg, people got up and served instead, either their neighbor, their local nursing home, or a large-scale out-of-country NPO.  The whole world might not be changed, but several personal worlds would be.

Perhaps this is not really a call to the world, although I wish it would be.  Perhaps this is a call to myself.  This dream, and so many other amazing Christ-like friends around me, are encouraging me to be better at serving through their actions and they don't even know it.  This summer, before I leave to serve the Lord, I will serve him again in a different way by joining a service club, and doing what I can to give back to the community, to people.  After all, people are the only thing that truly matter.