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Beauty on the Backroads

Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns

Archives for September 2012

Dream on

September 18, 2012

I’ve been thinking about dreams a lot lately. Not the whoa-what-was-that-all-about kind of dreams you have in the night and try to explain to your husband over breakfast. (Not that this ever happens to me …). No, the other kind. The awake kind. The kind that keep you afloat when you feel you might be drowning. Those far-off, seemingly unattainable hopes and goals for your life.

© Alexandru Mitrea | Dreamstime.com

We need dreams. I need dreams. In the past few months, I’ve found myself mired in hopelessness, wondering if life will always be this struggling just to get by, relying on others for help, worrying if we’re doing the best thing for us and our kids. In some ways, the answer to those questions is “yes.” But in other ways, it’s “no.” It doesn’t have to always be like this. To remind myself to keep dreaming, in the positive sense, I started a notebook just to record my dreams. Things like places I want to visit or travel to, features I’d like to have in a home, stuff I’d like to do before I die (the bucket list, you know). I wanted a reminder that I have dreams. And I should keep having dreams. And I need to keep dreaming because those dreams aren’t necessarily out of reach.

And I’ve been hearing stories of people, women mostly, who have dreams that scare the pants off of them. And I keep hearing this in my head:

Dream big.

I’ve heard that if your dreams don’t scare you a little, they aren’t big enough.

And that’s what I want to do: Dream big.

The company I’m applying to work for has this as their vision: to invest in the dreams of the poor. They offer small loans to people in poverty to start a business to help earn an income for their families.

Investing in dreams. I thought about the people who have invested in my dreams. My parents, in sending me to college and taking out loans and helping repay those loans. A generous couple who sent me to my first writers conference where I hadn’t a clue what I was doing there but the experience of being there sparked something in me that I’ve been fanning into flame ever since. My grandparents, who have given time and money and support, in everything. The list could go on and on with family members, teachers, professors, mentors, co-workers, friends and virtual strangers.

That made me wonder if I’ve invested in anyone’s dreams and how I can do that.

And I wondered how many dreams I’ve carelessly crushed. A line from The Waiting’s “Mercy Seat” haunts me: For there you cover every lie I spoke, and every promise that I broke and every dreamer that I woke.

Father, forgive me, for any dreamers I’ve tried to wake.

And then this, from the Psalms:

When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion,
we were like those who dreamed.

Our mouths were filled with laughter,
our tongues with songs of joy.

Sometimes it’s good to remember what it is to dream. To smile at the prospect. To tremble in fear and excitement. To stretch beyond what we’re capable of and find that God is there to help us. To try something new. To fail. And to try again.

Not all of our dreams will come true, but that doesn’t mean we stop dreaming.

Whatever your dreams, dream on.

And on and on.

Filed Under: faith & spirituality Tagged With: dream big, dreams, hope, investing in dreams

Saturday smiles: springs in the desert edition

September 15, 2012

As you read this, I’m sipping a Starbucks, maybe nibbling a scone, chatting with a friend/fellow writer/mentor, all of which make me smile. And believe me, I’m in need of some reasons to smile.

I’ve never actually been to a desert. At least not the no-water-in-sight-sun-beating-down-for-days kind. I remember driving through the desert to see a national park, maybe in Utah, maybe in Arizona. But I’m thinkin’ our deserts here in America have nothing on say, the Sahara. I can only imagine what it’s like to literally thirst for water in the desert, or desperately seek relief from a hot sun.

Figuratively speaking, I’m so there. Our season of financial dryness — no full time work, dwindling savings, little government assistance — lingers with not much sign that it will end. This was a roller coaster week for me with a few highs (an unexpected $20 to put gas in the car; finding 4 cans of salmon in the cupboard that I didn’t know we had; progress on my current writing project; kindness and generosity of friends) and a comparable number of lows (running out of butter and Crisco, staples in my efforts to bake more things at home instead of buy them; possible car troubles; stubborn kids). I’m no big fan of roller coasters in real life. About once every few years I think, why not, and ride one only to remember why I don’t usually ride roller coasters.

I’m looking for peace. Steadiness. Certainty.

Most days, I come up empty. Until I sit and listen for God’s voice. He’s not speaking loud and clear these days. He’s whispering. In code. I’m desperate to crack it, but it would seem He’s not ready to reveal the message yet. Instead of a message, He grants me the things I can’t get on my own. Peace. Assurance. Calmness of mind. Truth. Hope. Joy. Without Him, these things are in short supply.

So, I take note of the little smiley things about the week. Those little springs that give me momentary relief from the heat and pressure of wandering in the desert.

For starters, my husband, Phil, has been phenomenal (or maybe that’s Phil-nomenal) these last couple of weeks as I wrap up a writing project. He puts dishes away and does laundry. On Thursday he swept and tidied the living room (hardwood floors and one sorta nasty rug) while we were at a playdate. Yesterday, he deep cleaned the stove top. It sparkles. He watches the kids while I work. And this week we considered switching roles. I applied for a job. For which I apparently have a preliminary phone interview later this month. Phil is excited about the Mr. Mom role. I’m excited at the possibility of leaving the house on a regular basis. Above all, I’m grateful we’re a team.

And my kids. I complain and whine and groan about how hard this parenting gig is, but these two are creative and cute and funny. (I’m a pushover for jammies. Maybe because I’m reminded of their sweetness when they are quietly — and finally — in slumberland.)

They say ridiculous (and sometimes profound) things like “I’m overwhelmed. Do you know what overwhelmed is? It’s when you’re praying and you overflow.” That, from a 4-year-old.  And the way the 2-year-old prays for our food at mealtimes is sweet and always punctuated by a loud “GOODBYE” after the “amen.” Watch out, world, we have some enthusiastic ones here.

Books make me happy. Last weekend we went to a book sale in town. The kids each got to spend a dollar they earned for participating in the Summer Reading Program. They came home with three books each. Phil and I scored this box, which really reflects our book tastes in a box.

History. Christian fiction. Bible study. Atheist primer. Humor. Drinking. (Mainly the coffee, tea and soda variety.)

We had some awesome playdates with friends this week. The kids got a lot more social time than they’re used to, and even though I have work to finish, it was good to emerge from the cocoon and speak with real live humans again. (I tend toward hermit on the social scale.)

I’ll leave you with a few more smiles.

And if you need a reason to smile this week, you can borrow some of mine.

 

Filed Under: Saturday smiles Tagged With: coffee, family, friends, God's faithfulness, housework, husbands, kids, playdates, reading, reasons to smile, role reversal, springs in the desert, used books

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Hi. I’m Lisa, and I’m glad you’re here. If we were meeting in real life, I’d offer you something to eat or drink while we sat on the porch letting the conversation wander as it does. That’s a little bit what this space is like. We talk about books and family and travel and food and running, whatever I might encounter in world. I’m looking for the beauty in the midst of it all, even the tough stuff. (You’ll find a lot of that here, too.) Thanks for stopping by. Stay as long as you like.

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