I don’t know what it is for you.
I don’t know what dream you hold in the back of your mind and in the deepest parts of your heart. I don’t know what you wish for, what it is that you’ve been holding onto hope for what feels like way too long now. I don’t know if it feels like you jumped on the dream boat too late, because now that soul-palpitator of a thing in your insides doesn’t feel like it stands a chance. I don’t know if every doctor has said no can-do, or if every monthly budget meeting has scratched your Really Great Idea every time you’ve presented it.
I don’t know if you feel like you’re trying, but all this trying and putting yourself out there and thinking that it might just be your turn is starting to feel old. I don’t know if you’re starting to doubt the dream that was placed within you, if you find yourself wondering whose great idea this was in the first place.
I don’t know if you’re a parent of young children who feels like your life has been sucked out from underneath you – even though you wouldn’t trade or give in their lives and the new life they’ve given you in return for anything under the sun. And I don’t know if you’re single, divorced or newly widowed; I don’t know if you wonder if love will ever be yours.
I don’t know if you’ve put your career on hold. I don’t know if you’ve said no to great opportunities, even though your dream wasn’t bringing in a penny. I don’t know if the career you thought was going to be your career for the rest of your life just isn’t panning out.
I don’t know how or if you cling to hope of someday-dreams.
But I see you. And I say to you: you are not alone. And that dream birthed within you? I stand alongside you as you dream vision into reality – even if no one else in the world will ever see the end product.
Because your dream is not a mistake.
A month or two ago, I ran across this page in my journal. (Take a look at the attached picture). I suppose you first have to know something about me and journals: I lose them. I really, really like the concept and idea of them, and I use them for a little while, but then I lose them for a year or two. Or three. Such was the case with this journal given me right around four years ago.
The funny thing is that the friend who gave me this journal believed in my dream, even if I wasn’t quite there myself. See, I did the thing I swore I’d never do: I left the traditional work force after our oldest son was born, not only to take care of him, but also to pursue writing and speaking.
But, eight months into the gig, and this Really Great Idea didn’t seem like so great an idea. I called myself a speaker, but I didn’t have a speaking gig on the books to save my life. I called myself a writer, but writers wrote books, and what book would I write if I ever wrote a book? I had no clue.
Add to the fact, my family and I had just experienced a major home invasion – and I felt rattled to the core. I felt like I’d lost what very little footing I’d been standing on before.
I felt entirely lost, in general.
And the dream – of someday being a bonafide writer and speaker – suddenly felt like a pretty stupid idea.
But when I look at this picture now, I see it with new eyes. Sure, not every dream I doodled came true, because not every dream I doodled was supposed to come true.
Did that lectio group happen with Christine and Heidi? Yup.
Did I figure out my book, and did an agent pursue me, and did speaking gigs happen? Absolutely.
Did another baby come our way? Yes. Did home become a safe place? Yes. Did publication in a major magazine happen? Yes.
And when I see the fruition of these dreams, four years later, well, that sends shivers up my spine. That gives me hope. That lights up my insides to doodle more dreams – to really, actually put pen to paper and let dormant dreams loose on a new page inside my journal.
Then I’ll do as I always do: I’ll write in the journal for a little while, then I’ll lose it for a year or two. Or three. And finally, after four years have passed, I’ll crack it open to see all that’s transpired in the meantime.
I call it God. You may call it the Universe or your Higher Power or have a secret name for it altogether. But somehow, when I look back, I know that I was not alone – nor was I wrong – in my dreams. And that gives me hope. It makes me want to keep on truckin’ with those dreams.
So, what do you say? You in?
One question: what’s your dream? I’d love to hear your thoughts!0