I suppose I don’ t feel particularly inspired to compose
anything deep and thought provoking.
I suppose I just want to dream. To dream without worrying
about what contradicts what. To dream without trying to make it work in some
form of a plan. To unshackle those deep parts of me that I arrested during
bouts of fear and confusion and allow them to breathe the free air again.
I dream.
I dream of teaching. Of being in front of a class room. Of
proclaiming truth and shaping lives for the better.
I dream of mountains. Of vegetable gardens. Of horse pastures
in the woods. Of a gazebo surrounded by herbs and lit by Christmas lights.
I dream of a home and family. Of children who have his eyes
and my nose. I dream of extended family relationships with grandparents and
aunts and uncles and cousins. Of Thanksgivings and Halloweens, Christmases and
birthdays. I dream of cooking and organizing and managing a household. Of dogs
to have adventures with, and cats to cuddle with.
I dream of having my name on a book about my travels around
the world. I dream that that book would help other young people, young women,
to see that this world does not satisfy.
I dream about having my talents and gifts be useful. I am
intellectual. I am intelligent. I don’t have to stifle it. I had to go through
this last year of confusion and wandering, but I don’t have to stay here.
I dream. I dream that it’s okay to dream, that it won’t be
squashed down and that I will reach out and try. I dream of not being afraid to
fail. I dream of having bravery and being courageous and of taking on what is
difficult knowing that in the end, hoping that in the end, it will be
worthwhile.
I dream of being an influential woman, I suppose, in people’s
lives. I don’t know if that’s a good or a bad dream. But wait – we aren’t
worrying about that. No value statements, just dreams. I dream of being
influential in people’s lives for Jesus. For His glory and His kingdom. I dream
of influencing people’s understanding of the Lord. Of helping them to see that
He is so much more than we imagine.
I dream that I have a voice. I don’t know why I feel that I
don’t. But I have experienced wonderful and horrible things. I have had deep
thoughts, have wrestled with big issues. And I want to contribute to the discussion.
Because if I remain silent, and I don’t say that I have the full truth, but
what if part of the truth is muted in this generation?
I dream of being well read, literate, and to date with
current issues so that I can have a voice in what happens with that
understanding. I dream of things bigger than mid-Michigan, I suppose.
I dream of deep friendships. Of staying in touch with those
who have walked with me through so much. Of serving them and loving them and
being an element of Jesus’s love to them.
I dream for the next generation, that they will stay strong.
That they will know the truth about Jesus. That they will know their God and
that they will serve him fearlessly.
I dream of continuing to be physically fit, of pushing
myself more, of overcoming my shortcomings.
I suppose I had more dreams than I thought I did. I haven’t
allowed them for so long, and I don’t even know why. I think a large part of
their stifling was fear – fear of what it would mean if I pursued them. Now I
think I have a different fear – fear of what it would mean if I didn’t.
Already the “Now, well, ya know”s are sneaking in to shoot
down these little dreams of mine. Well trained snipers, silencing the emaciated
hopes before they can become strong and begin to be implemented, assassinating
them before they can begin to take effect upon the course of my life.
My political prisoners. Deemed dangerous somewhere along the
lines, though I can’t quite remember why. As I watch them crawl into the sunlight,
I dream that some of them will survive the massacre.
