For several years I’ve wistfully eyed knitting patterns, wishing I could produce those colors and textures myself. I’ve crocheted since I was a little girl, but I longed for the new vistas of knitted sweaters, shawls, and socks. Last spring I finally took the plunge: I signed up for a knitting class. I fell instantly and irrevocably in love. Knitting gives me a whole new range of opportunities to feed my yarn addiction, and there’s something soothing about producing something that actually stays done. Unlike, say, dishes and laundry.
In the landscape of my dreams learning to knit was more molehill than mountain. Still, it felt so good to get out and do something I wanted to do that was for me. It made me stop to think: how did I get to this place where I subconsciously accepted that my dreams no longer mattered? There’s something about the daily demands of parenting that tempts me to push my own deep desires aside. Laundry has to be done, dishes have to be washed, and children have to be fed. That other thing–that thing that’s been burning in my mind and heart–that can wait. I can wait.
Somehow the subtext of waiting becomes I can wait . . . because these other things are more urgent.
It can wait . . . because my dreams aren’t really that important.
It can wait . . . because I’m not that important.
Here’s the truth: my dreams matter because I matter. I am a child of God, created for good works the Father had planned for me before the foundation of the world. All my days were written in his book before one of them came to be. My life is to be spent for his glory. So what if–what if that dream in my heart is there because God dreamed it for me first?
That matters enormously.
Jesus said, “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full” (John 10:10). Fullness of life doesn’t mean enduring our days like minutes on a treadmill. It doesn’t mean living life in a series of afters: After I get married. After we have a family. After the baby sleeps through the night. After the kids are all in school. Life is not lived “after.” It is lived today. Fullness of life is a life lived with the fullness of love. Fullness of joy. Fullness of peace. The fullness of Christ’s presence woven in and and around and through our moments, imbuing our days with purpose and meaning.
A part of that fullness is giving ourselves permission to dream. Not just to dream, but to love our dreams. When we love our dreams and pursue them, Christ’s love flows through us to the world. That’s something that matters immensely.
And it shouldn’t wait any longer.
What are your God-given dreams?
This post is a part of the Third Thursday Thoughts link up from Hearts at Home. Share your thoughts in the comments and check out some of the other posts to read more about loving your dreams and goals. And if you like this post, subscribe to get emailed updates.