More Quotes from Great People

The longer I live, the more I learn, and the more I learn, the more I want to learn. Now, onto more famous quotes. (Once again, my comments are in parenthesis.) By the way, I saved the best for last; it’s a real thought provoker.

No man’s life can be encompassed in one telling. There is no way to give each year its allotted weight, to include each event, each person who helped to shape a lifetime. What can be done is to be faithful in spirit to the record and try to find one’s way to the heart of man…Mahatma Ghandi. (I always wondered what this meant until I wrote my book, and then it became clear.)

We are not human beings having a spiritual experience, we are spiritual beings having a human experience…Pierre Tielhard de Chardin. (This one keeps my thinking cap on!)

Never be entirely idle but either be reading or writing or praying or meditating or endeavoring something for the public good…Thomas A Kempis-early 15th century. (I found this one in a cemetary.)

All that we are is a result of all that we have thought…Buddha. (It reminds me of As a Man Thinketh by James Allen.)

I keep six honest serving men (they taught me all I ever knew), their names are what and where and when and how and why and who…Rudyard Kipling. (It is said that this is a journalist’s mantra.)

The individual human personality has bound up inside itself, a connection to all the wonders of the universe…Sidney Poitier in The Measure of a Man. (I like to think of this as truth.)

Focus on the front windshield and not on the rearview mirror of life…Colin Powell, former U.S. Secretary of State. (That goes for driving a car too!)

It is one thing to talk about God. It is quite another thing to experience God…Leonard Sweet, Methodist Theologian. (The experience is what encourages the talk.)

Life is God’s gift to you, the way you live it is your gift to God…Leo Buscaglia. (Take my life and let it be consecrated, Lord, to Thee.)

Live that you wouldn’t be ashamed to sell the family parrot to the town gossip…Will Rogers. (That’s why I never had a parrot.)

We make a living by what we get, we make a life by what we give…Winston Churchill. (This doesn’t mean just money…does it?)

I expect to pass through life but once, if therefore, there can be any kindness I can show, or any good thing I can do to any fellow human being, let me do it now…William Penn. (I hope this cures me of my procrastination.)

And finally…

What if you slept? And what if, in your sleep you dreamed? And what if in your dream you went to heaven and plucked a strange and beautiful flower? And what if, when you awoke, you had the flower in your hand?…Samuel Taylor Coleridge. (No comment.)

A Heavenly Message

It was June 29, 2007, when Jerry, my second partner in life for twenty-seven years, traded life on this planet for life in Heaven. Maxine, his part-time caregiver, called me on July 2nd to tell me that she had a dream about me the night before. She said that I told her to read the Bible, and vaguely recalled Psalm 2 and Hebrews 5. Intrigued, I opened my Bible to Psalm 2, but it didn’t speak to me. I then turned to Hebrews 5, and read in verse five, “You are my Son; today I have become your Father.” That sounded familiar, so I went back and read Psalm 2 again. Sure enough, in verse seven, I read, “You are my Son; today I have become your Father.” The next thing I knew, I was writing the following poem.


Your life on earth has ended,

Your new life has begun,

Today I am your Father,

Today you are my son.

Your gentle heart stopped beating,

You breathed your final breath,

And because I am your Father,

You’ve won victory over death.

Well done, my faithful servant,

You struggled, not in vain,

For now you’re safely home with me,

Your new life free from pain.

I whispered, “Gerald, come to me.”

You answered, “Lord, I come.”

Today I am your Father

Welcome Home, my son.


I love it when my dreams speak to me, but when someone else’s dreams speak to me, I’m left incredulous.





Ask For a Gift

scan0003A few days ago when I wrote the blog, Ned is an Angel, a new blogging friend asked me how I know my angels are around me. That’s a very good  question, and I even asked it myself one day a few years ago. I was recovering from a difficult chemo day, and not too sure of any angels at that point.

A Hay House Radio program was playing on my computer, and I sat back to listen when I heard the word “angel”.

A caller asked, “How do I know my angels are around me?”

The response was, “Ask them for a gift.” That surprised me a little, but then I said to myself, why not?

Feeling a little ridiculous, I nevertheless had the nerve to ask, “Okay, Angels, may I please have a gift?”

I actually voiced it aloud!

I listened to the program for a while longer, but finally gave in to the feeling of fatigue that chemotherapy treatments are famous for, and fell asleep.

The telephone woke me up a few hours later. It was my friend, and former boss at the Canadian Bible Society Book Store, calling to see how I was doing. I had often talked to Betty about my dreams, and how I tried to interpret them.

Now, she told me of a new book that had just arrived at the store, which she was sure I would be interested in: “Dream Language…The prophetic power of dreams, revelations, and the spirit of wisdom” by James W. and Michal Ann Goll.

Of course I was interested! I asked Betty to hold me a copy and I’d come in and buy it on one of my better days.

Her next words blew me away — “I am holding it for you, and when you are ready, come in and pick up your gift.”

I hung up the phone, smiling, and said, “Thank you, Angels.”

It was a one-time occurrence; I never asked for a gift again.

So, Laurie, that’s how I know my angels are all around me.

Found Money

This dream goes back to 1960. Being the mother of four active children, ages six, four, two and a one year old baby, I  wasn’t journaling back then but I remember the dream as if it was last night.

It was another recurring dream where night after night I dreamt about finding money. I’d be cleaning the furniture and pull out a handful of coins from deep within the sofa.

The garden was another treasure trove. Buried in the soil where I was planting flowers, was another handful of coins.

There was money between mattresses, under beds, in the sugar bowl, and in the children’s toy box. In one dream, I lifted the lid of our large outdoor garbage can and a pile of coins lined the bottom of it.

I never tired of these dreams. They were a welcome relief from the daily burden of trying to make ends meet. We were a young couple raising four little ones on one salary and there were times when money was pretty scarce.

And then a very sad, but wonderful thing happened. My grandmother Lydia, who I introduced in My Precious Life, died and in her will, left me one thousand dollars.

Do you know what? I never again dreamt about finding money.

Hit and Miss

I’m really glad I kept a dream journal over the years because those dreams have become a part of my life story, although they didn’t all make it into My Precious Life. It is said that dreams about flying are good, but this next dream was somewhat different in its message. I didn’t quite get it.

The airplane flying over our house sounded like it was in trouble. I could see it losing altitude, nose down, heading for our back yard.

I had this dream three nights in a row, and was due to fly on a bush plane to my daughter and son-in-law’s cabin on Trout Lake in a few days.

The night before leaving, I had this dream.

I was in the cabin alone when I heard the loud, droning sound of a plane in trouble. I stood stock still as it crashed into the cabin and stopped right behind me.

“It hit, but it missed!” I thought.

Once at the cabin, Brian, my son-in-law, took us for a boat ride around the lake.

“There’s Hit and Miss Lodge,” he said, pointing to a resort on a small island. I was astounded to hear those words, and told Brian about my dreams.

He smiled at me and said, “The cabin is on Hit and Miss Bay.”

And now, after all these years, I get it. The message was that there is a message in our dreams.



Fighting Fear

Before I relate this dream, I want it known that I had long longed for “the gift of tongues”, a spiritual gift referred to in 1 Corinthians 12:10, but it was not to be for me.

This is the dream I had in February, 2002.

Some friends were gathered in the kitchen of one of my previous homes. Off this room was a door leading to the basement. Suddenly, strange and eerie sounds began emanating from that area. We all felt a wave of fear, and no one wanted to open the door to investigate.

Finally, I couldn’t bear the feeling of fear any longer and slowly opened the door as everyone backed away. I peered down into the darkness and saw our pet dog trying to bury himself under a pile of blankets on a sofa. A very eerie feeling penetrated that space, and an unseen force seemed to move towards the stairs where I was standing. I wanted to slam the door and run, but I didn’t want to live in fear, so I sat on the top stair and feebly yelled something into thin air.

At first, sounds just squeaked out of my mouth, but then got louder and louder, and the “something” in the basement tried to hide. By now the sounds seemed to be pushing out of my diaphragm, becoming a forceful chant and Kelly, the dog, came out of hiding and scampered up the stairs.

My husband woke me up asking if I was okay. He said I was shouting in a language he had never heard before.

Do I have the gift of tongues? In my dreams.

Dream Birds

Dreams can be spiritual messages that you are being lovingly cared for by divine forces. They are like angels in that they bring both good news and urgent warnings. (From “Wrestling With Your Angels by Janet O. Hagberg)

A friend recently posted a cute and comic link on Facebook about birds which reminded me of another meaningful dream I had in 2000. The reason I remember these dreams is because I keep a dated dream journal.

And now for the dream birds.

Before falling asleep, I said a prayer to wake up at 7 a.m. for a church-oriented workshop in the morning. I am a very sound sleeper and don’t always hear the alarm.

In my dream, a hummingbird got tangled in my hair. I managed to get it loose and it flew to the top of  a birch tree in the yard.  As I watched his flight, another small bird nestled under my chin; then another one nuzzled one side of my neck, while yet another pressed against the other side.  They were nudging my face with their plump, feathery little bodies. I was getting annoyed with them when I felt one get under the hair at the back of my neck. I began to panic and tried to call for help when a fluttering little bird tried to get into my mouth. That’s when I woke up. It was 7:45 a.m and if those feathery little creatures had not invaded my dreams, I would have missed the 9 a.m. workshop.

I love birds and was very thankful for their most timely, although frightening, interruption of my sleep.

The Stranger Who Held My Hand

Many years ago, during a very trying time in my life, I had a dream where I was walking alone on the observation deck of the TD Centre, Canada’s tallest building in the seventies.

I circled the deck endlessly, feeling sad and depressed after the breakup of my twenty-one year marriage. Somehow, being fifty-six stories above the earth, seeing the city in panorama, was like looking at my future without a partner and I began to cry.

Suddenly, a faceless male figure, dressed in a robe came beside me and held my hand as we continued the walk.

I woke up to a powerful tingling sensation pulsing through my entire body.

I was reading All Things Are Possible Through Prayer by Charles Allen for the umpteenth time (it is such a wonderful book), when I came across this:  “And when a person has a firm hold on God’s hand, he has the power and strength flowing into him to keep him on his feet.”

I had highlighted the passage at some time, and now it reminded me of my dream.

I have always felt that the person in my dream was Jesus.

That dream gave me the strength and confidence to endure the years of single parenting, financial hardship, and life without love until it appeared once again to a waiting heart.