What memories and lessons were my own children denied by not having a garage attached to our house? Certainly we have our own memories that grew from the deprivation—like getting tough here on the high desert. A garage is not considered a luxury where fluctuating temperatures and unpredictable weather patterns mean a car gets exposed to traumatizing shifts—and so do we. A garage is a necessity that we didn’t have. I’ve helped the girls jump-start dead batteries on rainy mornings, watching them headstrong and primed for the worst like Xena, warrior princess. There is something essentially purif5ring about being exposed to the elements and learning to work with them, not against them, unprotected and unpampered. Some primeval instinct settles in; it is innately and deeply satisfying to know you can do what you don’t want to do, to jump into the fray and rescue yourself. I’m kind of glad we didn’t have a garage.
But snowy winter mornings do more than send a chill down the spine when you don’t have a garage. Getting to school (never canceled for inclement weather) meant shoveling a path across our front deck, down the steps, and across the yard to the driveway. The girls eventually caught on that snowfall meant getting out of bed fifteen minutes earlier. After coffee and showers, it wasn’t unusual to see one of them in slippers and pajamas wielding the wide flat snow shovel with dogged determination. Then she would jump in the car, turn on the ignition, and screw up the heat fill blast. With the long-armed scraper, two inches of powder swiped easily off the windshield to filter down her sleeves. Ice under the snow wasn’t so forgiving, but the elbow grease painted roses on my daughters’ cheeks.

Change—and change is almost always the result of any forward movement—takes courage. My journey has been uphill for a long time and promises to be steeper still. Shivers of fear often make me tremble. But there are places to go. Over and over again, I quietly remind myself, Marlee, you are wearing shining shoes.
Since ancient times the image of feet has been a symbol of pilgrimage. Moses blessed the tribe of Asher before his death, saying, “Asher is most blessed of sons;. . . let him dip his foot in oil. Your sandals shall be iron and bronze; as your days, so shall your strength be.” The poet wrote that God’s Word is “a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.”2 The apostle Paul reminded us of the prophetic exclamation that the feet of those who proclaim peace and bring good tidings are beautful.3 John, writing from exile, saw an angel clothed with a cloud, whose feet were like pillars of fire.4 When I am stressed, lonely, or confused, I recall my dream of shining shoes and those biblical references referring to blessed feet—feet on a mission.
The patriarch Jacob lay his head on a stone to sleep in the wilderness after being sent on a long journey by his father. That night he dreamed of a ladder stretching from earth to heaven. Angels were going both directions on it, and the Lord stood at the top. God made a promise to Jacob about the land and the blessing that was to come through him. When Jacob woke up, he spoke these stunning words: “Surely the LORD is in this place, and I did not know it.”5
In the most unlikely places, when we are standing before the most incredible passages of our lives, daunted by the miles ahead of us, dreams offer clues. These clues not only help us process the past; they also carry seeds of the future. Dreams are often God’s way of letting us know that he is there for us.
Studying the archetypal meaning of dream images, I learned that an empty house signifies a soul-searching period or a change in personal awareness that is difficult to deal with. A derelict house is an expression that no one cares. A house in poor repair may warn of the need for renovation. Curtains blowing in the wind show inner harmony and spiritual learning, but in the case of my dream, the harmony and spirituality were literally in tatters!
I know now, like Jacob after his dream, that God was in the haunted circumstances of my life: broken heart, financial ruin, dread for what my children must endure, and much more. Since then, the image of a house has recurred in my dreams in different guises. In fact, researchers say a house is the most common setting for dreamers worldwide. Whether it be a historic mansion or a deserted shack, a house inspires exploration.