Dream Like An Old ManPart Three, The RV Trailer
My Dad has stories, lots of childhood rememberings.
Most of them include his brothers. Most also include fist throwing, rock-throwing, and even knife throwing – all in good fun, at least, at the beginning. And many of his childhood stories have some small amounts of bloodshed.
And then there is the pretty story about an RV Trailer.
One summer the brothers Clark had a vision. And it was beautiful. It was all the best things that brothers dream together. It was about the wide-open places, it was filled with adventure, pioneering, and discovery. The brothers would build an RV Trailer. This trailer would be spectacular, it would be pulled behind their dads 1961 Hillman and in this RV trailer, they would see the world!
For several days there was brotherly love and goodwill toward all as the Clark boys gathered together to make the vision a reality. They spent days in the back shed behind the house. First, they built the trailer bed out of a few boards. Then they constructed the wheels – also out of wood.
There’d need to be a bed and a place to sit. And of course windows and maybe a table for breakfast. There would need to be a stove to cook the eggs.
Wood they had in abundance, and so they constructed.
While they built, they continued to envision and the trailer grew in their hearts and minds. It was a beautiful time, each day a new idea added life to the journey. And as the brothers worked they forgot their fists, rocks, and knives… sure there were disagreements, but the vision was too grand to allow petty infighting to stall the completion.
At first, they were just going to travel down the road a ways. Maybe camp at the provincial park outside of London Ontario. But as the trailer amassed in size, so too did the vision. Soon they were traveling to distant exotic places like Niagara Falls and even further, The Rockies, The Grand Canyon, Mt Everest. The dreaming added strength to their hands and they worked through lunches and well past dusk.
Finally, the day arrived. It was finished. It was beautiful!
Their Dads car was parked in the driveway. It was time to unveil the Trailer and begin the true adventure.
And here is where the story takes a turn for the worse, you see, not one of the brothers had given any thought to the size of the shed doors in comparison to the size of the Trailer.
The Trailer was too big! Or maybe it was actually the other way around, maybe the shed doors were too small…
Either way, the story of the RV Trailer ended poorly. The boys went back to fists, rocks, and knives.
And yet, the vision of the open road had somehow impregnated them… you know, these kinds of visions, they don’t let go so easily…
Vision is powerfully dangerous, at least, the true ones. You know when they are true because they try to kill you. And yet I am learning that to fully possess them, you must first let them kill you…
Jason Clark is a writer, speaker and lead communicator at A Family Story Ministries. His mission is to encourage sons and daughters to grow sure in the love of an always-good heavenly Father. He and his wife, Karen, live in North Carolina with their three children.
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A true dream, one that is birthed in the heart of “old men dreamers,” carries with it authority and power. Only a person who has experienced the death of vision, who has nailed vision to the cross, has access to the power of resurrection. When he dreams again, he dreams the dreams of heaven. And a dream that’s birthed in heaven has power to transform earth, it can change a family, a neighborhood, a city, a nation, it grows exponentially and has eternal significance.
And then, with the full understanding of what it cost, “old men,” well, they dream dreams!
And the authority and power of their dreams pull heaven to earth in ways never before seen. Their dreams empower generations to live heaven on earth.
Over the last twenty some years I’ve had some rather rude awakenings. Yeah, I’ve traveled to new places and I’ve confronted Bad Dudes. But that’s pretty much were the similarities to an episode of the A-Team end. You see, the bullets were real and they didn’t miss. I’ve been shot, many times – and it was no mere flesh wound either.