Breakfast

I had a dream this morning
that you all came over to the house after lunch.

You were playing on the floor, with the baby in your lap.
The kids all had a secret they weren't saying.
They knew something that I didn't know.

You and I were there and we were talking.
But, I didn't talk to you,
And you didn't talk to me.

Finally, one spoke up.
He brought in a large box
and began to read from a note he pulled from a bag.

A large, square note card with thick black letters scrawled on it.
"Four seats of honor, and one that was even more special."

He read each name as he drew a chain of cards from the bag.

Four cards,
Four names...

And then a fifth.

There was disappointment and shame, because that fifth seat had been vacant.
I didn't go.  Now I began to feel remorse.

The last name was read...

It was strange because it wasn't a name at all.
It was a term of endearment.  And a corny one, at that.
[It was insincere and it didn't fit.  And, in my dream, I knew this.]

One of the kids opened the box and there were gifts inside that I didn't get to receive because I hadn't gone to lunch.  A stuffed animal and other random things.

You were sitting close to me and the look on your face was a mixture of sorrow, disappointment and scorn.
As if I should have known better.
The kids had bought into this mindset and I wasn't about to give you away,
But I turned to you and said,

"I can't play this game."

I went upstairs, curled up on my bed and cried.

The funny thing is that my bedroom was the last one I had before I left home.

My cries woke me up this morning.

And this chorus began playing in my head...

"And now I'm needing,
Desperately pleading,
'Oh, Lord, be all to me.'

...

'Cause I'm so tired

Of trying to be someone

I was never meant to be.

Be my God,

So I can just be me."

(So I Can Just Be Me, by Laura Story)