The Dream That Wouldn't Leave

The last few years have been a whirlwind of celebrations and heartbreaks coupled with mundane, monotonous days, and exciting, spontaneous ones, and most nights I go to bed completely exhausted but happy to be so. The last several months have been a magnification of all that, and I wouldn’t have traded it for anything.

Two weeks ago, I stepped out into the relatively unknown to chase a dream that sparked in me almost two years ago. When it first ignited, I immediately bucked against the idea. I was not good enough for that dream - certainly it was not for me. Dreams like that are for more naturally talented people with memorable names and magnetic personalities. So I neatly and quietly put it away to reminisce over at a later time at how silly I had been. It could collect dust there with my childhood dreams of being a princess or a horse jockey.

I happily moved on with the day to day, content to keep the status quo and not push the boundaries beyond their natural reach. Dreams are for sleep anyway, and who has time for that these days? But some dreams are persistent and recurring, and no matter how much you think of other things before bed, they return anyway to clutch onto your consciousness.

The dream came gnawing back last February, and this time it wouldn’t be neatly put away, so in June I made my dream known, and by August I was preparing for it.

I took my first step out towards that bright dream at the end of September, and I felt more prepared and excited and ready than I ever expected to feel. I took a step out and it felt like a confident one, with only the slightest twinge of doubt — but I had done it. Euphoria, and relief, and all those emotions they say follow adrenaline kicked in and I thought, “This is it. I’ve made it through.”

The next morning dawned bright and promising, but dusk came early and brought reality with it like a freight train. The votes had been counted, the results were in, and I had failed.

Disappointment wrapped his arms around me like an unwanted embrace from that one guy who always stands a little too close. I’ve been blessed with over-active tear-ducts all my life, a simple enough nuisance if it weren’t so embarrassing, and on cue, tears clamored at the backs of my eyes, each fighting to be the first one to escape down my face. I had to hold it together while I was in that room. I couldn’t let those who had fought for their dreams alongside me see me admit defeat like that. I finally understood how celebrities feel, hoping against hope for their gold statue, the achievement of their career, and having to plaster on that gracious smile when their name isn’t called. It’s awkward and uncomfortable, and you don’t mean the congratulations any less sincerely, but you pray no one sees the regret behind your teeth.

It was a confusing mix of emotion. I was proud of myself and the effort I had put forth, but I was disappointed with the results, and frustrated by the feeling that I had been mis-represented. But all throughout that day and the next, the Lord kept pressing in on this truth - that he is good. When dreams don’t work out the way we want or they just aren’t realized as fast as we would hope, he is good.

Often times his goodness appears in the small moments. You have to keep your eyes open and ready to see them. It’s friends singing Toto with you in the car to cheer you up. It’s that small message from a friend. It’s the way your pup snuggles against you when she knows something’s up. It’s the discovery of a new and perfect song, or the long a-waited change in the weather. The message that “He is good” is everywhere if you’re paying attention.

Other times, he stamps that message across the cosmos with such brightness that it can’t be ignored or turned away from. It must be acknowledged with eyes straining towards the sun while the fullness of his love washes over you. Sometimes he returns a long surrendered gift that you had resigned to let go of. Sometimes he blesses you with more than you could ever have thought to hope or ask for. Sometimes his love bursts through in such a supernatural and tangible way that you think nothing else has ever been so real or so urgent. Some will try to explain that away and tell you that it’s circumstance, or chemicals, or coincidence, but it's all just different words for a Father’s compassion, and the best and most unbelievable part of it all is that he delights to do it. He enjoys blessing us and giving us good gifts, but nothing so much as he enjoys giving us more of himself. He does not keep himself removed from us, or reserve his affections for the moments we deserve it, he just gives himself freely and fully and it’s a love like nothing else we will ever know. He tore open the sky like that just two days after the rug was ripped out from under me, and while he would have been just as good if he didn’t do it, I have been overwhelmed by how sweet it was that He did.

I’ve written a lot about his goodness here, and I’ll keep writing about it till my fingers ache and then I’ll write more still. There’s a reason the Psalms tell us to tell of his good deeds - it’s because we’re so prone to forget and distrust him. But if we can keep our eyes open, we’ll see Jesus at every corner chasing us down to give us himself.

Two weeks ago I danced and laughed in the wake of a dream that I felt not good enough for, and I came out the other side still dancing and proud even while I weathered disappointment, ready to take another chance the second it arrives. Last Tuesday I said yes to an opportunity I had contentedly stopped hoping for, and as change comes rolling in over the sea, I’m dancing in it too, trusting that there is a plan for me that is only good, even when hard times or disappointments come again.

This is how we set our face against the coming tide and dare it to bring the next day with it. On the other side, there is always Jesus, beckoning us to take his hand and trust him. Narnia waits on the other side, and there’s a lot of it left still to explore.

“Safe? Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe, but he’s good. He’s the King.” -C.S. Lewis

Brooke Ledbetter