For a long time I had a card pinned on my wall. It was a photo of a woman wearing a flowered dress with long wavy dark brown hair, pulled back out of her face. She was walking at dusk through her garden, lush with vegetables. In the distance was the countryside and mountains further off. She held a little blond haired child in her arms. This was my dream. I wanted to be that woman. My family and I would live in the country somewhere, probably in the pacific northwest. I would stay home, make a family, a sanctuary. I would garden, knit and sew, like my mother and her mother before her. Our home would be a center of peace and love, removed from the rest of the world. God at it's center. This was my dream. It is what occupied so much of my girlish (and early woman’s) heart. It is why I decided not to be a doctor long ago when I left premed behind and pursued nursing. I didn’t want anything to compete against my dream.
Lately, I’ve come to realize that my dream has become an idol. For the last 4 ½ years I have had the privilege of staying home with my kids. Albeit, it’s not Oregon or Washington and my garden is more like a jungle, but I’ve still had part of the dream. Our next step in life will take me away from my dream. I will work to support my family and my husband will go to school. Awhile back we had decision to make. We could leave DRC and he could look for a stateside job similar to the ones he has had in the past (in the same field). Or he could change everything and follow his heart. I saw the weariness in his eyes, his loss of passion and love for his work. I saw what it was doing to him. I had a choice. I could also pray about this decision and submit my will, my dreams and hopes to God and ask for guidance and direction, or I could say, “NO! This isn’t a part of my dream!” and resist. I chose the former. And I am struggling with how God led us (turns out I still want it MY way). I am struggling to let go of MY dream and MY hopes. I don’t want to bury them. I don’t want to let them go. I don’t want to trust God with them. How could God ask me to do this? Yes, I had submitted and asked, but I didn’t like the answer!
Today I read this post about burying dreams and hopes. Releasing the seeds and hoping, longing for resurrection. Perhaps, in stepping out in blind faith, He will hold me tight and bring me through and grow new fruit that I could never have imagined. To lay it down, to let it go, to bury it all, and pray for resurrection—I venture forth.
My dream is not a bad one, it is beautiful and these last four years have been wonderful with my girls. But I feel like I have held on so tight to my dream that I haven’t considered what God’s beautiful dream for me might be, right now today. I will always hope that I, one day, can be the woman holding my child at dusk in the middle of my garden in the country. But if it doesn’t happen, I am okay with that. I figure I never ever dreamed I would live in Congo even once in all my thoughts and hopes for my future (I never even considered living overseas!). Yet, I am incredibly thankful God dreamed this experience for me. I know I can trust him with my dreams, my family and our future. It is a safe place to be.