Several weeks ago my kids expressed an interest in watching Field of Dreams. I was surprised at their interest. So I asked what they knew about the film. Link said
“It’s about baseball and there is this field and zombies come out to play.”
When I was done snickering, I clarified that the baseball players were more like ghosts than they were zombies, but that “ghost” wasn’t quite the right descriptor either. They remained interested, so I put the movie in our Netflix queue.
Once it arrived, we sat down to watch it together. It has been a long time since I’ve seen the film. I was not sure that it would engage the interest of all the kids. I knew Kiki and Link would get it, but I expected Gleek and Patch to get bored. The opposite was true. In fact when we had to pause for a snack, it was Patch who was hollering for everyone to hurry up so we could watch the movie. The kids loved it. They laughed in the funny spots and were happy with the story.
As I watched I found myself in tears. Partly the tears were because it is that kind of a movie, but they were also caused by the dawning realization that Howard and I have lived this movie. Oh, not the part about baseball and cornfields. The part about having an inspiration, knowing it was right, and following through on it even though it looked a bit crazy. We’ve spent time following instructions that confused us, taking actions that seemed nonsensical, and trusting that it was right. And then we’ve had the part where everything comes together in ways we did not expect to fill our lives with blessings we could not previously have imagined. That is our story, and it continues to be our story. At the moment we aren’t taking any life-shifting steps, but in small ways, on small inspirations we continue to do this. It is frightening and joyful and humbling. And like Ray in the movie, I am moved to look around me and consider that if Heaven is a place where dreams come true, that this might be Heaven.