God and I. dreaming.

 I confess.

I am a dreamer.

When I was 11, my dream was to become a singer.  I prayed and begged and prayed that God would give me an amazing voice overnight.  I would wake up and rush down to the piano, expecting concertos to roll off my fingertips and for a voice like molten gold to slip effortlessly from my lips.  In high school I tried out for the select choir.  I didn't make it and I was crushed.

My senior year of high school I aspired to become an actress.  I won an acting scholarship and I thought my dream may just come true.  After numerous interviews with the head of the department, I realized I would be required to compromise my morals if I was to be part of their program.  I walked away saddened but more resolute than ever in my convictions.

There is one dream I've always cherished, though, and lately God has been asking me to entrust it to Him (see this post).  I wish I could say I handed it over cheerfully.  The truth is that it has looked more like a tug-of-war than surrender.  I want to rush ahead and make things happen but at the same time I know only God can accomplish this dream.  It's hard.  This waiting on God to act, this need to be content even with dreams unfulfilled.

And at the back of my mind there is a fear.  
What if this dream is only my own and not God's at all?   It would be like dancing the waltz without the lead partner, like attempting to soar without wings.  No, I don't want to dream without him.  For at the end of my self-constructed rainbow there would be only fool's gold.

With fear clinging like saran wrap to my guarded box of dreams, I finally realize what God has been so patiently waiting for me to understand-- the only way to see them grow is to release them.  To let the winds of the Spirit sweep them into the hands that first brought them to me--to my Author of dreams, the Creator of dreamers.

I peel back the layers I've preserved my dreams in and as they soar towards heaven, words of love flutter down on my upturned face.

God doesn't want me to stop dreaming.  Only to dream bigger.  I hear His gentle whisper,
"Let's dream.  Together.  You and I.  We'll dream of unimaginable things.  And we'll be the dream.  I in you and you in me."




**I'm linking up with (in)courage today where we are sharing our God-sized dreams.