Feet on Dreams

 Photo: Emma Wilson

Photo: Emma Wilson

Sometime we have a dream. You know, a heart dream that nestles down into us and flares up every so often like a shooting star.

Sometimes those dreams sit in an armchair in our brains until they become old and gray, unused. And some dreams put their feet on the ground and start running. Those are the kinds of dreams that make the world spin. The kind of dreams that lead to lightbulbs and bestsellers and discovering America. 

My boss Gracie has those kinds of dreams. A ton of them. They have led her to start a small business focused on crafting handmade jewelry and clothes, changing the lives of women in her community, and creating a brand that celebrates womanhood, community and beauty. All in under two years.

I think dreams are a love language, created by Jesus. He delights in planting something in our hearts that will take root and blossom and burn in us until we make it happen. It's how He changes the world. It's how He teaches us to trust. The biggest dreams, the ones most worth going after, are never going to come easily. 

And I really truly believe He puts such dreams in everyone. Maybe you haven't found yours yet, but I bet if you sit on it for a little bit, the dream would come to you.

In November I had an dream grab me by the hand and take off. 

Writing a book was one of those things I always assumed I would do. Eventually. Key word: eventually. Like, at the age of 45, after years of gathering wisdom and once I had become someone worth listening to. It never occurred to me to write a book now.

As last year drew to an end I took a moment to catch my breath and survey the damage. Sounds dramatic, I know, but a lot happened and it took some processing. One way I processed, season to season, was through writing. Obviously. If you followed this blog at all, you probably picked that up. But I also journaled through tears and in moments of fear-shattering joy. I word-vomited all over Moleskin notebooks and in iPhone notes. Without meaning to, I told a story. 

It's kind of impossible to recognize a story as it's happening. There is no rhyme or reason, no plot, no obvious inciting incident or climax, when you'e living it. But in November, I started to gain a little perspective and see the story. I had just lived through a pretty life-changing thing. Life changing not because of the circumstances (the circumstances were pretty ordinary, honestly, in the grand scheme of things), but life changing because of what I saw Jesus accomplish. He chased me and stole my heart and made it new.  And it occurred to me that the thing you do with stories, is tell them. 

I began to gather all my old blog posts, journals and letters and put them in chronological order. I edited and organized and added a little bit more to the end, and by the second week of January I had a book.

And I'll be self-publishing that book in about two weeks.

I don't expect it to blow up, or even to make a medium-sized splash. I'm mostly just doing it to know I can. Why wait until 45, when what I have gained at 24 is worth sharing? And I'm confident this story is worth sharing.

So, I'll keep you posted. I've given myself a deadline that (hopefully) I will stick to, and there is much to do before then. I am so excited. And scared. Blogging is one thing, putting a year's worth of heartbreak and learning and soul battles in print is downright terrifying. But it also feels good.

While I'm finishing this dream up, go find yours. And we'll drink some coffee and chat about it. And give praise to the biggest Dreamer of them all, who loves to see our dreams run wild.