I don’t remember much about Columbus from 4th grade history. Maybe he wasn’t the monster that I now imagine him being. Maybe he was a just a man, poisoned by greed, caught up in a system that was hell bent on using anyone to get what it wanted. Maybe later in his life dreams of the way he hacked his way through the arms of the great trees in Haiti and the arms of its people haunted him. Maybe he repented at his deathbed. Maybe the blame lies with Ferdinand and Isabella who sponsored the trip. Maybe the blame is too large for one king and queen. Maybe the entire continent of Europe was responsible.
Or... maybe all of us share in the blame. For all of us have known these dreams. All of us have dreamt of power and politics; of militaries and money markets. We label Columbus a villainous conqueror and rightly so, but we have all known of the dream to conquer. Maybe we haven’t dreamt of conquering another country by killing its people. But, we’ve definitely dreamt of conquering our former associate, friend or spouse by killing their reputation through gossip. Maybe we’ve never forcefully taken a sovereign’s throne and began dictating to them how we want them to run their country. But, all of us have acted like little sovereigns ourselves, by forcing our unwanted opinions and judgments upon someone others. Like water finding the lowest level, these dreams seep down into the caves of our soul infecting our motives and desires.
Thank God for new dreams; clean dreams motivated not by power but the laying down of power. Dreams not polluted by avarice, but purified by sacrifice. Thank God for the people who came to the New World with bibles and crosses, but refused to carry swords or guns. Thank God for the real missionaries inspired by the real authentic dream. Our daughter didn’t live a long life, but she was captivated by the real dream in a way that will inspire others for their entire lives. It’s obvious the source of her dream was different than the source of Columbus’s dream. Her source was something much purer and higher. As the ocean is fed by the river, kept flowing by the mountain stream, the source of which is the first snow melt on the highest mountain, so Quincy found herself swimming in an ocean of a dream, fed by a river of love, kept flowing by a stream of sacrifice the source of which is the first blood drops at Calvary’s Mountain.
It’s the snowmelt that brings the greatest oceans.
And it’s the blood drops that bring the greatest dreams.