I had that same recurring dream last night.  You know, the one that wakes me up.  Except, this time, those questions weren’t written in fading chalk and just flying around on pieces of black paper.  Instead, I was sitting across the table from someone and sipping sweet tea.  It felt less startling and more like I was chatting away with an old friend, catching up.  I slept right on through, giving genuine answers to every single question from previous dreams and then some.  I wasn’t afraid to share or leery of what the follow-up question would be or the motive for the question.  Instead, I was excited to share my story about how my God is moving and working and transforming my life.  I didn’t seem to care about the reaction that would come from my answers or whether or not they would measure up.  I opened up about parts of my story that I’ve never shared with anyone before and was confident that my sharing was purposeful.  I didn’t wake up feeling overwhelmed, but rather I woke up prayerful.  And my prayer was that I would be the girl from my dream.  The girl who would tell her story and her plan, certain that there would be people gathered around the throne of Grace one day as a result…