My heart raced as I tore open the box left on my front porch by the mail man. The contents marked the culmination of ten months of work, countless phone calls and emails with my publisher, and even more innumerable sleepless nights. As I held the first copy of my first book in my hands, all I could do was stare at the cover as a slow grin spread across my face. I had done it. I had joined the ranks of those who could call themselves a "published author."
I had to chuckle at the myriad thoughts going through my ADHD-affected mind.One of the images spinning in my head like a twister was that of an author portrayed in old movies ... an anti-social loner who sits at a typewriter in an old two-story house somewhere on a hill, or in a quaint little suburban established (read that, old) neighborhood, such as Savannah, Georgia. No one dared to interrupt them as they hammered on their typewriters - except for the obligatory cat that must rule the author's domain. I couldn't help but take quick note of the differences between the image in my head and real life.
During the 11 months since my last post on my blog (dated November 2012), I had gotten married, moved myself, my son, and my entire life two states away, and started a ministry with my husband. Yet, I managed to get a book written - without owning a cat! My dream had finally materialized, and I was holding it in my own hands.
Suddenly, the smile on my face got smaller when another image raced through my head. This time it was a memory of a hot, muggy, Southern July night as I lay in the hammock at midnight. Glistening with perspiration under a full moon, watching fireflies create a light show while crickets chirped in the woods surrounding my house, I was nudged from my reverie by the soft whisper of the Holy Spirit of God. He spoke to my heart and simply asked, "What is your dream, Wendy?" I was used to God speaking to my heart, so that wasn't a surprise. It was the question that caught me off-guard.
"Dream?" I asked, puzzled. "Yes," God replied, "What is your dream?" I don't know how long I laid in that hammock pondering the question, but finally I said, "I have no idea. What difference does it make? I gave up on dreams a long time ago. I live in the real world now and don't have time for dreams." He didn't let me leave it at that. He never does. With gentle prodding, God said, "I want you to think about it. I want you to remember what your dreams are." For the life of me, I couldn't think of anything. Out of pure frustration I told the Him, "I just don't know! I told You, I don't have any! It's all I can do to raise three kids by myself, work and pay bills. I don't have time for dreams! Why are You asking me this?"
Still gentle, God prodded some more. "I want you to think back ... waaaaaaay back to your childhood. What did you dream about then? What did you love to do?" I laid in that hammock for the longest time, staring at the stars shining through the cedar branches, traveling through the time machine of my mind to my childhood. There it was ... plain as day. "Singing and dancing," I slowly whispered, surprised at the revelation. "Yes!" I heard Him say. I swear I could actually feel God smile. "That's what I want you to do," He said.
That did it. That broke the spell of that special moment. My pragmatic side kicked in as I said, "Um, may I remind You that I live in Podunk Number Nine where the streets roll up at 8 pm? There's no place to sing or dance around here." He said, "You leave that up to Me."
The next afternoon after work I went to the grocery store before going home. I couldn't remember what kind of pudding my son said he wanted for a school snack, so I stood in front of the rows of pudding ... waiting ... as if one of the brands was going to magically jump off the shelf into my buggy. From behind me I heard a voice say, "There's only one person in Jackson County with that color of red hair! It must be Wendy!" I turned around to see Larry, an old client of mine from my printing days. The last time I saw him was five years prior when I was making large prints of his paintings. He asked what I was doing now, so I told him all I did was work and raise kids. Larry said, "You ought to come dancing with us on Friday nights. There's a group of us that get together and go to Dothan to dance." I was stunned. In less than twenty-four hours, God had made good on His word. Shortly after I went dancing, I learned of several karaoke places in Dothan where a girlfriend and I sang on Saturdays. It may sound silly and simplistic, but doing things that are fun and bring you joy can change your entire outlook on life. Pursuing those dreams, as small as they were, lead me to think about other dreams and possibilities - one of which was writing a book. A year later, here it is in my hands.
What are your dreams? Have you given up on them, as I had? There are desires deep in the human heart that only God knows about. If you've forgotten what your dreams were, ask Him to reveal them to you. I can't promise He'll show you in twenty-four hours, but I can tell you that He will answer every sincere seeker. The best advice I can give you is to be open to new or different dreams than you had before. Sometimes God doesn't answer certain prayers because He has something better in mind. The battle comes when we think what we want is the best it can get, and God has to wait till we get to the end of ourselves before He can show us what He knows is best for us. Trust me on this one ... trust Him! He really does know what is best, even when it looks like the exact opposite. Oh, the stories I could tell about that! I share some of them in my speaking engagements, but a lot of them I keep to myself. They are truly too miraculous to be believed by most.
So go ahead, dream. Then dream some more. Then dream bigger and watch what God will do for you.
