Reviving a Dream

I know, I know. I’ve been a bit lax in posting to my blog, lately. I’ve had a lot going on and writing has not been at the forefront of my mind. Work has been crazy. My Little Man has been trying to get a molar for the past few weeks and being VERY disagreeable about it. I’m starting to think someone stole my sweet little boy and replaced him with an obstinate, overly sensitive grump. I’m ready to have my son back.

To make things even more interesting, I’m reading a book right now called The Dream Giver by Bruce Wilkinson. In it, he talks about how God gives each person a Big Dream for their life. This is something that each person is born with and is designed to do. People usually know from a young age what their Big Dream is. If you don’t know what your Big Dream is, think back to what you wanted to do when you were a child. Many people decide somewhere along the way that the Dream they have is impossible and they give it up in favor of a more reasonable pursuit. This really only leads to living a life that feels unfulfilling and like something is missing.

This book is really speaking to me because I have spent the last few years of my life trying to figure out why I always feel so unsatisfied. I have always felt that I was meant for something bigger, something more that what I am doing. Apparently, I was right. I’m not meant to have an ordinary life. None of us are. We are meant to be doing extraordinary work that God designed for us to do before we were born.

Here’s the hard part. Reading this book reminded me what my Big Dream is. It reminded me about the dream that I’ve had since I was a child. It reminded me that God spoke to me 7 years ago and told me that it was what he had for me. It reminded me of the dream that I decided about 5 years ago I wasn’t talented enough to pursue. It resurrected the dream that I gave up because it was too much of a “pipe dream”.

It’s been an enormously emotional experience. It was more painful that I would have guessed to begin to believe again in the dream that I have given up on. I’m still struggling with it. Mostly, I’m scared. I’m afraid that I’m not good enough, that people won’t care enough to listen to me, that I’ll try and fail miserably, that I’ll invest myself in something that really has no chance of succeeding. I’m trying to convince myself to try anyway.

Running Scared

I have a confession to make. It might make me a bad mom, but it’s time to be honest. So here it goes. . .

I like it when my son gets scared.

I don’t, of course, like that he is afraid, but I like what happens when my little man is scared. A loud noise from construction outside or the siren of an emergency vehicle sends him running, as fast as his chubby two-year-old legs will take him, for the protection of my arms. He scrambles up into my lap and hides his face in my shoulder. He holds onto me with all his might. That is the part I like. Some days it is the only cuddle time I get from him.

Since the day the little guy started walking, he hasn’t stopped moving unless he was eating or sleeping. Occasionally he does come and give me a spontaneous hug or drooly kiss, but those moments are gone as quickly as they begin. A good scare can give me perhaps a full minute of soft, wonderful baby hugs. If he has a bad dream or other night-time fear, I might get 15 minutes before he either falls asleep or wakes up enough to decide it’s time to play. 15 minutes! It’s like heaven.

So. . .there it is. I enjoys those times when my son gets genuinely scared. Do you think it makes me a bad mom? Oh well. It could be worse. I could scare him on purpose.

Hmm. Now there’s an idea.

Lessons I've Learned From My Children Pt. 2

When you have a bad dream, all you have to do is turn your pillow over and the bad dreams will go away.

My daughter watched The Little Mermaid for the first time tonight. I should have known when she became very upset when Ariel had to escape the jaws of a shark that maybe it was going to be a little scary for her.

When I tucked her into bed, after she brushed her teeth, read a story and said her prayers, I took the opportunity to ask her how she liked the movie.

“The Sea Witch is mean,” she said.

“Yes, she was. What happened to her?” I asked.

“She fell down”

“What made the witch fall down?”

“Ariel was in love,” responded my four year old daughter. At the time I thought that this was just one of her random answers that she gives now and then, but I suddenly see the depth of understanding in that answer. The Sea Witch did fall because of the love between Ariel and Prince Eric.

“Was anything else scary?” I asked.

“King Triton was mean.”

“Yes, he was mean when he got mad at Ariel.” I got to thinking that the movie might prompt a nightmare, or at least an over-active imagination. She sometimes has a hard time telling us when something is wrong, so I’ve been trying to talk to her about what she should do in various situations. With that in mind, I asked “If you have a bad dream and get scared during the night, what are you going to do?”

“I’ll turn my pillow over,” she said.

I smiled at her matter of fact tone. “So, if you turn your pillow over, you’ll have good dreams?”
She flipped her pillow, nodded, and laid her head down, snuggling under the blanket. With the matter settled, I kissed her forehead, turned off the light and said “Good night”. I walked to the living room marveling at her innocent faith. How wonderful to believe that all you have to do is turn your pillow over and bad dreams will disappear. How extraordinary to be unconcerned by fears that may come. How remarkable to be so free of worry. How I’d love to recapture some of that innocence.

Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.