Pastor Cartwright's wife's name was Winnie. At least that is what I think her name was. No she wasn't "Winne the Pooh", but she was very friendly and kind. She had gray fluffy hair, a kind face, and a easy going way about her. All these characteristics were reasons I probably wasn't afraid to tell her about the dream I'd had. I was no more than 5 years old and I was sitting in her Kindergarten Sunday school classroom. There was I picture on the wall of Jesus and a multicultural group of children crowding around him. I really liked that picture. At some point, I'd had a dream about Jesus when I was in her class. In the dream, I was one of the children in the crowd huddled around him. In fact, at one point of the dream I was sitting on Jesus lap having a nice chat with him - probably about how much I loved my red patent leather Buster-brown dress shoes. No matter what I actually talked to Jesus about in my dream, I was so excited to have been ...
Life is tough, but hope is tougher.