It was the evening, or rather pretty late into the night on September 22, 1985, when as a young woman I found myself pregnant and unmarried at the same time. It wasn't supposed to be this way; I was engaged, and if the truth was told, though I rarely told anyone because it was so unbelievable, I only had sex one time with my fiance, and that was on June 22, just a few months back. Since I was now knowingly pregnant, I also knew exactly how far along I was. I also knew how far I had to go before the baby was born, but I didn't know if I was going to have a boy or a girl. This was before everyone was able to run down to the corner and have an ultrasound or sonogram performed. Those things cost real money in 1985, and I just wasn't in the financial place I needed to be to even attempt to find out what sex my baby was, or was going to be. I'd have to let God tell me I guess. God...yeah, about that...He forgave me. I'm not sure I forgave myself.
What I remember about the dream of September 22, 1985, was the way it ended - when I woke up I used the ending to restore my memory to recall the beginning, and to try to flesh out every detail I could. Being a person who always dreams in color and in detail, it wasn't too hard to recall it, but I didn't want to miss a single thing so I remember grabbing a ball point pen and writing it down exactly as I remembered. I wrote it in the baby's Baby Book, a Disney themed book -- neutral; not for boys, not for girls. I wrote it all down.
I saw myself walking through the white metal paneled stalls of the Oklahoma State Fairgrounds. Mid September is usually the time Oklahoma has their state fair, so that in and of itself was not surprising to me. It also wasn't surprising to me that I was in the stall or horse area because I love horses, rode them, and had recently stopped riding due to being pregnant. I was in the barns (in my dream) and I was just casually walking through them looking for someone. I found the person I was looking for, he was kneeling inside one of the stalls and on the outside of the gate the word "Cavalry" was painted in green letters. Some would even venture to say olive green - - Army green.
Now, this is when the dream gets really good. I am outside the stall, looking inside the stall at a large man wearing denim jeans, boots, and a red flannel shirt, he is holding his red baseball cap while he's on his knees praying. I call to him. "Boy, come on, we gotta go" I say to him. He lifts his head a bit and nods at me and calls back, "Mom, I'm praying, I'll be there in a minute." MOM...did he just call me MOM? Oh my goodness, this must be my son! I'm looking at my son! This was all I could think of and nothing else mattered in the world. I was going to have a boy! I was really really going to have a baby boy and God was letting me know he would be a man of faith. THANK YOU, Jesus! But wait, there's more.
I waited on my son to finish his prayer. He stood up, put his hat on his head and walked out of the stall. Importantly, he opened the gate, would not let me into it, but closed it behind himself, and then put his arm securely around my shoulder. He was standing on my right side. As we walked through the streets of the State Fair I thought it may be fun to see Bozo the Clown, boys like clowns, right? My son, no name was given at this point, shook his head in silence. There would be no clowns. As we walked the streets there were others also walking the streets at the same time, and as they turned to see us they were gasping, literally staring and seemingly in awe of what they took into their sights. I couldn't see what they were seeing. When I turned to my side I merely saw my son, however, when anyone (and everyone else) turned to him they saw what can only be described as a steely black giant warrior, a knight with his sword in one hand and a clinched fist in the other. I turned several times but only saw my son; ball cap, flannel plaid shirt, nodding as he passed others, not smiling, but not angry, just walking beside me. Protecting me.
This is where I called his name - - I clearly without any reason for it said, "Reuben, what are they seeing? I don't understand." He stopped me, turned me to face his face and put his hands on my shoulders. He said "Mom, my name is Lauren Gregory. They see me. That's who they see." With that I woke up. I woke up feeling ever so confused too; if I had a son I would most definitely name him for my father whose name is Reuben, but I would never in a million years have come up with the names Lauren nor Gregory! I decided to look up both names and see what they meant - - they had to mean something. Again, this was many years before smart phones; it was off to the library for me! I found the books I needed and found to my surprise, but not entirely surprising, that the name Lauren means "Victory" and the name Gregory means "Guardian". I wrote it down in the book.
Six months to the day came and went. On March 22, 1986, the most beautiful baby boy was born to me, and it was my time to give him a name. I remembered the dream, but I honored my father. I also honored my sister Andralyn by naming my son Reuben Andrew Stringfellow. He was my tiny angel. As time does, it ran over us, leaving us in its wake - - skipping ahead exactly 21 years to the day from September 22, 1985 to September 22, 2006, I heard the phone ring. It was Baby Boy, a name he doesn't always cotton to hearing when I use it. "Mom, get downtown, come to M.E.P.S. at 6th and Walker. I'm swearing in." Swearing in. My son was leaving me to protect me.
Upon arriving at the front door of the M.E.P.S. (Military Entrance Processing Stations) in Oklahoma City, I opened a white door - the word "Cavalry" was painted on the door -- yes, in Army green. I walked through the door, through the halls, and called out to my son, "Reuben, are you there?" I found him, he was on the carpet kneeling in prayer - about to stand up with his Commanding Officer. My son was wearing denim jeans, a red flannel plaid shirt, and he handed me his red Oklahoma Sooner baseball cap. He told me to hang on to it, he'd need it when he came home. He did it. He became the Victorious Guardian - - he became Lauren Gregory. My Reuben, which by way means "Behold my son!" was now no longer mine -- he swore himself away to the United States just a few minutes later; and he hasn't vanquished that promise, not even to this day. Behold, my son, the Black Knight. The Army's mascot is The Black Knight.
Today my son serves in the very elite Oklahoma National Guard 45th Infantry Division, and he is currently (at the time of this post) a Staff Sgt. He has deployed several times both through the regular Army, where he served 6 years and with the Guard, having now served 8 years in our state.
God truly is amazing. His grace eternal, and His love unbound.
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