A few weeks ago, I dreamed about my children’s choir teacher from church. In my dream, I remembered she would be ninety-nine years old and had some physical limitations, yet in my dream she ran down the steps from a large stage to greet me. In her normal way, she bear-hugged me, then pulled back, held my arms, and looked into my eyes. She asked me about my walk with God and what I was doing for the kingdom. Then I woke up.

            Immediately I googled her name to see if there was an obituary for her and couldn’t find one. For six days I searched. My mom and I visited her home in a neighboring town, and it seemed abandoned. We called around to folks we knew and even went by the local nursing home. I called churches in the area. Nothing.

            Finally, my friend found a lead on Google, which led to Facebook. I scrolled down a family member’s page and there was a picture of my friend. They had just celebrated her ninety ninth birthday and there was a beautiful picture posted from a week before—the same day of my dream. After scrolling the page, I got a list of contacts to reach out to and eventually, a sweet lady messaged me back with the information on my friend.

            See, this lady I was hunting for wasn’t just my children’s choir teacher. She and I stayed in contact. When I worked at Ridgecrest the summer after graduation, she wrote to me. The year I got married, she sent me a letter. I stopped by many times and visited her as an adult and introduced her to both of my children. And it never failed, she wanted to know what I was doing to serve the Lord.

            Once I discovered her whereabouts, my youngest son, Daniel, and I made a visit to her care center. I carried an old Baptist Hymnal with me. She was dealing with dementia, so I hoped the old hymns would bring back some sweet, long-term memories.

            I told her about my dream and how hard it had been to find her. Then I told her what an impact she’d had on me for Jesus and that there were so many others who felt the same way. We talked about heaven, and I told her what a wonderful day it would be when she gets there and has a new body that is vibrant again. She said, “Oh, I hope I get there.”

            My eyes locked with hers, “Of all the people I know, I have no doubt that you’ll be there. You’ve served Jesus for a long time and touched a lot of lives. Heaven will definitely be your home.”

            She looked deep into my eyes with water in hers, “Thank you. I know you love me, and I know I love you. Thank you for being here with me.”

            Then we sang. For nearly two hours. With each song she came more and more alive. By the time we neared the end, she was playing her imaginary piano on the rollie table and clapping, humming, directing the choir, and singing. The words came back. The old version of her I knew all those years ago reemerged, and I have no doubt that for those two hours, she coherently worshipped Jesus.

            My favorite song we sang was Jesus Loves Me. She locked eyes with Daniel through the whole song and pointed at him and smiled bigger than with any other song. She always loved us kids.

            It was such a special morning. Her roommate kept telling me she never talked that much. But God knew what she needed, and he sent me to minister to her as she had done for me so many times before. He sent me to remind her of her value and worth in his kingdom. And to help her hold onto hope.

            When I walked to the car, the tears fell. What an incredible moment in time. I’m so thankful for God planting a dream in my mind and helping me find her. It’s a day I’ll never forget.