Wonder what's ahead

Dreams--we all have them.  In my earliest remembrance, I wanted to be a mommy with 16 kids.  Later on, I wanted to be a veterinarian.  This, of course, was strongly influenced by the wonderful James Herriot books.  I also wanted to live among the lions (Born Free), have hundreds of horses (Black Beauty, the "Misty" books, the Black Stallion books), be a psychologist (David and Lisa and a slew of other books whose names I don't remember), and be a professional singer.  In college, I decided that I would be a music minister--no, an opera singer.  Through it all, I knew that I would write.  That was a given.

Then reality intruded.  Marriage and children took the place of travel and singing.  The day-to-day overcame the dreams, and they didn't just become a sideline; they went away altogether.  I found myself somehow afraid to dream.  It seemed too much to hope for--a life of success, a life with meaning and purpose other than family.

Many years passed.  My family grew and changed.  We went through immense trauma and loss, and we suffered for it.  My older children grew up and married, and I surprised myself by being brave enough to move away from all of them (except my youngest, who would graduate from high school in Arizona) to begin a new job in Tucson.  It was lonesome and hard, but it gave me back myself.  Having nobody else to cling to or try to please or emulate, I was forced to look at myself, and I found that I began to like what I saw.  As I struggled in Tucson, I was faced with the realization that I had lost not only my dreams, but even my hobbies and pastimes.  Many of them went away because my sight had deteriorated, but others were just put aside due to depression.  Through trial and error, I began to build again.  Slowly, haltingly, with many steps backward, life started to re-establish itself.  The major thing that I started to do was write.  I started to blog every day, and things began to flow again.  Short stories, devotions, essays, posts--I began to remember the joy that I used to feel in writing.

And then disaster.  A situation occurred at work due to my own poor judgement in blogging. I was humiliated, embarrassed, and I did what I always used to do when confronted with my own poor choices--I blocked it all out.  In this case, blocking it out took the form of deleting my entire blog.  Never mind that very little of it had to do with the issue.  Everything was destroyed.  All the joy I had begun to discover disappeared, and I was afraid to write.

It took another year to even think about writing again, and another year after that to begin to blog once more.  But here I am, and I'm seeking an audience--a critical audience that is not afraid to comment on my work and tell me where I can improve.

My daughter Emily shared a blog with me today that spoke to the question, "Why blog?  What could I say that hasn't been said before?"  The answer resounds with truth.  It might have been said before, but never by YOU.  You are unique and special.  You give a spin to the story that nobody else can give.  One thing more--why do you suppose it's been said before?  People listen.  And no matter how many times it's said ("it" being words of truth, words of hope, words of optimism, words of caution, words of experience), it can always be said again.  People are not static.  Emotions ebb and flow, and what is read is perceived through the filter of experience.  While I might write something that is read and forgotten, you might write essentially the same thing for the same reader--but at the moment when that reader needs to hear it.  One plants, one cultivates, and one reaps.  If it weren't for the soil being made ready by myself and others before me, the thoughts wouldn't be accepted when the reader reads your work--or the ones who come after you.  So I no longer worry about that aspect of my dream.  I want to write-so I write!

How about you?  Do you have a dream?  My husband did.  It was his long-term goal.  I found out about it when he applied for a job that would have meant great things for our family.  He made it through the first interview, and then he was called in for the last interview.  He was asked to give his long-term goal, and he said, "To be happy."  To be happy???  He told me his answer when he arrived home (he didn't get the job), and I am sorry to say that I ridiculed him for it.  I was so disappointed--it would have meant so much! I wanted more than anything for him to be in a position that was better than the trap he was in--a job that I was afraid would end up killing him.  But what I didn't realize was that my husband had less than two years to live.  I don't know if his new job would have saved him, but I now understand that goal--that dream.  I hope and pray that he achieved it, at least in part, in the birth of his son and the love of his family.  I know that his children were his joy, so I hope he found true happiness in them.

Today, for all to see, I tell you my dreams.  I dream of being content in my job.  I dream of singing before an audience. I dream of having a few close friends that I can share my soul with.  I dream of a closer relationship with my children.  And more than anything, I dream of one day being reunited with those who have gone before.  I dream of a place where living doesn't hurt, where life is eternal, where every day is another day of joy.  And I know that one day, I will see that dream.  Praise God.