When I was ten years old I had gone on a religious retreat with my grandparents and great-grandmother (Babcia, which means grandma in Polish) to Quebec and Montreal. Not only did I discover that Canada is impeccably spotless, including their highways, but it was definitely strange to be wearing a sweater in the middle of August.
We visited many different churches and cathedrals, including a tiny chapel in a park. It was my first time being in a foreign country and hearing Mass in a different language, other than English. And it was the first time I had seen black squirrels.
Waddling down the road in the charter bus, I was looking forward to stopping somewhere so I could finally stand and stretch out. We were covered by many pine trees, which made the afternoon seem evening. The bus driver pulled into a parking lot and we all piled out one by one. Glancing around me I experienced a feeling of deja vu. I knew I have been here, but when? And why?
A moment later, it finally occurred to me. I recognized the small wooden cabin and the sign right outside the place. The vast field behind the parking lot and the same bright blue sky hovered above.
"I had a dream I was here," but I don't remember how soon I had said it to my family.
Inside, there were the wooden tables and benches along the walls of the place and the man behind the bar in the center was helping out the customers. I know it was a funny thought to have, but I half expected him to recognize me. The place was called Milk and Honey. My grandparents and I sat in the same bench in the back as I did in my dream. I ate some bread, but without the honey. I know at this point, I quietly told them I had a dream I was here. Everything looked exactly the same. They believed me of course. Back outside, I even spotted the small animal section with chickens and I think a goat or two. I noticed the road in which I had run down from, feeling lost and insecure.
But maybe I wasn't lost. Maybe that path was carved out for me on purpose. Sometimes we find ourselves wandering down a road or path in life and we believe we are lost and can never be found. But in actuality, He had lead us down that path for a reason. I wondered why I had dreamt of a milk and honey place and not of one of the cathedrals. I suppose it's because milk and honey symbolizes heaven. In the land of milk and honey. He will provide.
