On Chasing Dreams

Is your dream written in washable or permanent marker? (image from themotherhood.com)

Do you have a dream? Have you lived it? Have you tried? Have you had a taste only to have it slip through your fingers? Or was it ripped from your grasp?

How far did you chase that dream? Or did you pursue at all? Did you let it go, watch it ride into the sunset? Or did you follow with reckless abandon, sacrificing your money, your time, your life? If God has opened a window. how do we know if it’s closed, or just momentarily obscured? Or how do we know God opened that window at all?

Have you let your dream go, and only lived to regret it? Or have you watched your dream grow? All of us want the American dream, or some dream, …

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Just like any other American over a certain age, I can remember exactly where I was when the “world stopped turning” on September 11th, 2001. I was a senior in high school, and just starting my day in first-period home economics class. Lessons were paused. Mouths hung open. Tears started falling. Here, tucked away in the safety of the Midwest, the impact of what had happened in New York City shook even our tiny town. I can still remember a narrow-sighted boy from my class asking in disgust, “Why are we even watching this? It’s not like it’s going to affect us.” His words cling with me. How wrong he was. Not only did it affect us, and the world, but it affects our children.

When stepping out to take my daughter to preschool this morning. …

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She loved him tenderly, and defends him fiercely.

I’ve always known my mother is intelligent. Super intelligent. And I’ve always known she is kind, and thoughtful and selfless. But I had no idea how brave she was, she is, until she stood behind that podium. At a national conference for survivors of clergy sexual abuse, she told the story of her son. Her baby. How he’d been abused and had taken his own life. It could have been prevented. The church had been negligent, and change needed to happen.

Her voice cracked, but did not waver. She shook her fist, she looked the crowd in the eye. She transcended the role of ‘mom’ to woman. A fierce, yet remarkably calm, woman. She was a tiger, poised and ready to protect her children, to protect your children, …

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Coffee cup given to me by my amazing coworkers, who gave me a “surprise support” party. It was perfect. Still my favorite cup.

Be warned, there’s some harsh emotion/language in this post. If you’ve been through it, you understand. If you haven’t been through it, try to understand. 

I still remember the look on the bakery lady’s face as she handed me the small cake with the words “We’re Having a Baby” scrolled on it over the counter. “Good luck,” she said, as she winked and smiled at me. Little did she know how much I was going to need it. Not that it would have helped any.

I knew. I already knew something was wrong. I knew the moment I could barely discern a second pink line on the stick that something was wrong. Shouldn’t I …

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