I’m not sure when this dream began.

Now that I think about it, it may have been as early as when I was a girl, and we went to my Uncle Leland’s lake house. He had an A-frame, fitted with a stairway that led up to a room tucked into the point of the “A.” This room was lined on both sides with twin beds, dormitory-style, and the kids slept up there. Or, it also might’ve been born when we visited one of The Aunts in Oklahoma, who had bunks built in to the eaves of a room that were complete with curtains, like sleeping berths on a train. Either way, both left an impression on me that, one day, I would provide a special place for children in my own home.

Many years later, when my own girls were older, I started dreaming about grandchildren. The impressions of those two rooms sort of melded into one, and I had visions of “Camp MimmiePapa” where ALL our grandchildren would come, as cousins, and stay for a week of camp, up in our attic room that would be lined on both sides with sleeping berth beds.

(Once I shared this dream with my then teenaged daughters, who both looked at me with saucer-eyes and said, “Um, who, exactly, is providing you with ALL THESE CHILDREN??” I told them I was counting on them, but I’d rent kids if I had to. Fortunately, it all worked out.)

Now, I have the kids and I have the room. It’s not in the attic, and it has one set of bunkbeds, but they love it, and that’s the point. I love it, too. It’s my favorite room in the house. More than the bunkroom, however, my goal was for our house to be the place my grandbabies loved to visit. I wanted them to come to associate a place with us, an experience, that would fill their childhood memories with love and Jesus, and plant dreams of their own, deep down in the recesses of their hearts.

So, last night, when I tucked Lilli into bed, we said our prayers. We thanked God for everything we could think of, then she said,

And thank you for this house and this farm.”

Then she opened her eyes and looked at me, saying this:

Mimmie, this isn’t your house. It’s not yours or Papa’s.

Of course, I asked her whose it was, and she answered,

It’s ours. Our house. I wish we never had to leave.

It was then I knew that I could lay that dream to rest.

It was then I realized anew that dreams do come true.

“Tell your children of it,
    and let your children tell their children,
    and their children to another generation.” Joel 1:3 ESV

“A good man leaves an inheritance to his children’s children…” Proverbs 13:22 ESV

“Just make sure you stay alert. Keep close watch over yourselves. Don’t forget anything of what you’ve seen. Don’t let your heart wander off. Stay vigilant as long as you live. Teach what you’ve seen and heard to your children and grandchildren.” Deuteronomy 4:9 MSG