Lion Dreams
I have a thing about lions.
I think it goes all the way to when I was about 3 or 4 years old. It was my first visit to the Milwaukee
Zoo. I can remember that we were looking
at the lions who were behind glass. The
huge, fully-maned male lion turned his head in my direction, looked right at me
and roared. Suddenly, I had no
confidence at all in the strength of that glass.
Through the rest of my life, I have periodically dreamed about
lions. In my sleep I have been chased by
lions across fields, parking lots and through houses. In my latest lion dream I was backed up into
a corner and I had this little puny stick.
A very hungry lion was snarling and pawing at me, while I poked at him
with my stick to keep him at bay. To my great
relief, the morning alarm went off and I woke up safe. But my wife was looking at me and she asked
what I was dreaming about. I explained
that I was being attacked by a lion. She
gave me a kiss and looked at me and said, “If it was Aslan you should let him
eat you.”
Aslan, of course is the Jesus figure in C.S. Lewis’ Chronicles
of Narnia series. Her theory is that I
will keep having these lion dreams until I finally surrender totally to
God. Her theory is not without merit.
St. Faustina’s Diary has a reassuring message of God’s Divine
Mercy. The Diary and the message have
brought me much peace of heart. But
there is an element of the Diary that perplexes me.
Several times along her life Jesus asks Faustina how long she will make him
wait until she totally surrenders to him.
The first time is when Faustina is just 17. That didn’t bother me too much. But Jesus asks the question again, years
later when she is a religious sister and she has already been receiving visions
of Jesus. If being a vowed religious,
having tremendous daily devotion, a deep prayer life and visions of Jesus wasn’t
enough for Faustina, I have wondered what surrender would look like for me and
whether it is even possible?
I had a glimpse into surrender about ten years ago. It started early on the morning of the day
that I was to leave for a two-week mission trip to the Dominican Republic. I had gone the previous year, so I had a good
idea of what I would be experiencing. A
faith-sharing group of men that I meet with weekly met the morning of our
departure. I debated sleeping in that
morning because of our extended evening travel, but I awoke without setting an
alarm, so I took that as a sign that I should attend. When I walked into the meeting that morning one
of the men was telling the story of when his appendix burst during a pheasant
hunting trip to South Dakota.
He explained that he woke up and had this pressure across the
top of his stomach. It was uncomfortable,
but he went hunting for the day. During
the hunt he became weaker and he felt sicker.
By the end of the hunt, he said that he could literally feel the
pressure move from across his stomach to his lower right side. At that point it turned from discomfort to acute
pain. His friends rushed him to the
nearest hospital which was 2.5 hours away.
By the time they got there his appendix had burst. He spent two weeks in the hospital trying to
recover enough to make it back to Green Bay.
That night our mission group left for the DR.
We arrived Friday and I spent the weekend going out into the neighborhoods
with Father Mike Seis who is stationed there.
All was going well. Monday was
our first workday. I woke up feeling
good, but about half way through breakfast, my food just didn’t appeal to
me. We drove up to the worksite – about
a 45-minute drive up into the mountains.
We were building a chapel out of concrete block. Some of us stacked block in each corner and
we began mixing cement. During the
morning, I had this pressure across my mid-section, and I began to feel weaker
and weaker. I couldn’t tell if I had a
fever or not because it was about 95 degrees, so I was sweating
regardless. The guys kept commenting
that I didn’t look good and I should drink more water. I assured them that I was drinking as much
water as possible.
The locals made us lunch, but I couldn’t eat. I did make it through the workday and the
ride back to our base. I washed up and
changed, but I was feeling worse. Then,
when I was talking with a couple of the guys I felt the pressure move across my
body and then down to my lower right side and turn to acute pain. It was just as my friend had described his appendicitis. By now I was pretty sure what was wrong.
I went down to see Father Mike and we arranged for my travel
back home. I asked Father Mike to anoint
me. Then the guys all prayed over
me. Every evening, we would gather
upstairs and pray a rosary together under the stars. I asked if I could lead that night. As we finished the rosary, literally as we said
“Amen”, my ride back to Santa Domingo was there.
We drove the 4.5 hours back to Santa Domingo and arrived at the
airport a little after midnight.
However, I had to wait in the airport all night for my flight at 6:30 to
Miami the next morning. From Miami we
flew to Chicago and then my final flight was into Green Bay. My wife picked me up at the airport at 3:00
PM and drove me right to St. Mary’s Hospital.
At 4:00 PM, which was a fast as they could get the surgeon there, I was
operated on. That was about 36 hours
from when I started feeling the first symptoms.
Unlike my friend, my appendix had not burst. They were able to scope it out, and I left
the hospital the next morning feeling great.
People who know me, including my tendency to be a champion
worrier, all asked, “Weren’t you afraid to try to make that long journey
home?” I had been anointed. I had been prayed over by my friends. So, I could honestly answer that I wasn’t
afraid at all. I was totally at peace
with whatever way God was going to work it all out. Just like many of Jesus’ miracles, that inner
healing of being at peace with Jesus occurred even though the appendix still
needed to come out.
My tendency to worry stills flares up every now and then. That’s the way life is – we are constantly
challenged to rely fully on God through events that are out of our
control. So, St. Faustina, keep praying
for me – that complete surrender thing is taking me a while.
But. maybe as a next step, I have resolved that the next time I
dream about lions, that I am going to ask if he’s Aslan. And, if he says yes, I am going to put my
stick down and let him eat me.
His Peace <><
Deacon Dan
Photo by MARIOLA GROBELSKA on Unsplash
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