Dream a Little Dream

Some mornings come too early, you know? Today, Morning was rather rude, smacked me in the face and gave me a wet-willy, and even though I kept pushing her away and pulling the covers over my head, telling her that I needed ten more minutes to sleep, she kept nudging at me until I dragged myself from my comfy bed to see what she wanted. 

Turns out that what she wanted was to introduce me to my day, who had his own plans for me. I often think I control my time, but I really don't, you know? I make checklists, goals, and my day laughs, shaking his head and muttering, "Silly girl," as he puts together a checklist of his own, etches an agenda of how he thinks things should go for me. 

That's the way it is with our days, our lives, our dreams. We lay out all of these plans, right? And we might push them forward, pursue them, insist on them, chase them on the playground while they run away from us, playing on the monkey bars with the prettier or funnier or happier girls, laughing and excluding us, and we whine and cry and throw ourselves to the ground to get our way, but what we have planned does not care. What we have planned is not always what's best for us. 

Today, I planned to be at certain places at certain times, to complete certain tasks efficiently and within my own idea of timeliness. "Ha!" quoth my day. "You silly, silly girl." He threw me some curves, he did, and stood back to see if I could roll with the punches. I think I did alright. I think I passed.

I did manage to get to the interviews that I had scheduled for this week's articles, and I have to tell you, I don't think I'll ever get over being amazed by people and their stories. I'm so honored to listen to what folks share with me, both on and off the record, that I have to pinch myself sometimes because I can't believe I'm not still in my comfy bed with my blanket over my head. 

The one thing that I've been finding is the amazing patterns I see. Most of the stories I write start with some kind of promise. A man wants to be a veterinarian. A woman wants to be a ballerina. A couple wants to stay married. And then there's some kind of struggle. The man discovers he doesn't really like animals. The woman realizes that what she really longs for is motherhood. The couple comes to the conclusion that actually don't love each other at all. 

And, through it all, God works. Even when we don't realize it, don't believe, don't see it coming, God works. The man becomes a public health worker serving his local community. The woman becomes a ballerina, and a mother, and a ballet teacher who infuses her passion into the lives of other young dancers. The couple experiences a healing of such magnitude that they stay married and can't even work up enough anger to stay mad at each other for more than an hour or so. 

Promise. Struggle. Triumph. They're the keys to a good story, and the amazing pattern of a life touched by God. 

What is your promise? What is the dream that God has planted in your heart? If it seems like you're moving in the wrong direction but you just can't seem to stop the current, it could be that God is carrying you exactly where you need to be.

So hold on and try to enjoy the ride. I'll see you downstream.