Author: Walden World

When Dreams Lose Their Glimmer

/ Walden World / 3 Comments

I have written about dreaming before. Not the sleeping kind. But those desires carefully curated and hidden away in the uttermost depths of the soul. When I was tiny, I thought my dream was to be a dentist. This was quickly foiled upon the discovery that mouths are gross. Then as I grew, I believed(and this was an idea that followed me all through college) that I would be a performer. 

I would be on Broadway, or in television. And I would orchestrate my success. 

But then things didn’t really unfold that way, and I can remember feeling a little bit lost. I lingered there longer than I should have, pursuing different avenues in the same vein,  waiting for something to happen and it just never did. No matter how hard I worked, nothing really happened and –somehow–the dream faded. It didn’t sparkle and shine the way it once had.

One of the redundant lies our culture proclaims is that we must pursue our passion. We hear this in an inspiring biography of someone who “never gave up” or we see it printed on a graphic tee shirt on instagram. Follow Your Dreams. Believe in Yourself. Do What Makes You Happy.  While I am not opposed to the idea that we’re all individually driven toward some specific bent or another, I don’t necessarily find these mantras(for lack of a better word) wise. 

It was the staunch transcendentalist Thoreau who once said, Our truest life is in dreams awake. 

While I don’t align with his particular worldview, I think Mr. Thoreau has a point. 

I spent years pursuing dreams that I believed with every fiber of my being. And I don’t regret that. But I do think there is something to be said for considering the heart of the matter. Was my desire to be known? Or to do something for the sake of bringing glory to the One who gave me the desire to do it? Sometimes, I think it was both. But in the end, I saw at my very core that the desire was to fill some void that was never empty in the first place.

Now, as a wife, mama, etc. I wouldn’t say that I’ve stopped being a dreamer. In fact, my INFP personality leaves me full of ideas almost constantly(bless my patient husband).But things look different. Nothing turned out the way I imagined. I’ve realized who holds–and even cultivates–these dream-like longings of my heart. And I see–with every seemingly mundane moment–the beauty in fixing my gaze on the One who authors my wild ideas and quiet ambitions.

For years I used to regret never pushing myself harder, or giving myself space to pursue my passion. But oh, what freedom I found in embracing what I was given! And what a peace in knowing that it was not only the right but very best thing for me. It wasn’t that my dreams died, it was that they didn’t shine nearly as brightly as they once had. The familiar glow that lifted my spirits for so long had lost its place.

That’s because the One who formed me directed my gaze towards the good, pleasing, perfect plan that was mine all along. My heart is finally at rest not in the why, but the who.

redeemingthemundane

In the long days, when I feel my hours have been wasted and left wanting…when I cannot muster the courage to wash another dish, or wipe another countertop…when discipline seems exhausting and consistency wavers in my own feeble spirit, I want to look back here and remember the goodness and grace in fixing my eyes on the One who has held my heart all along. Whoever I am, whatever I do is meaningless if He is not there at the center.
Today, whatever your now is, however your heart may grieve over what’s lost or left behind, remember Him. Recall His promises. Remember whose you are, and rest in knowing that these ordinary moments–which may not look as you expected–are not for nothing.

His plan and purpose is far greater than anything you could have imagined. He is good. He is faithful. He will give you grace to carry on; to truly and fully live in dreams awake.

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A Million Dreams Are Keeping Me Awake

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I was reading some of my old thoughts recently and was struck with the harsh reality that I live in a state of ingratitude. This particular stream of words considered the stuff of dreams. What were they? What were mine? What had changed? What had I planned so long ago for myself that was left unaccomplished? 

I was living in San Diego, CA at the time, working two jobs while also trying to hack it as a military spouse whose poor, sweet husband was out to sea more often than at home. I loved my work. I loved where we lived. And of course, I loved being married to my best friend. But somehow on this day, I was feeling a little dreary. I had stumbled upon a YouTube channel of some classmates from college(we all graduated with the same BFA in Theatre together) Instantaneously I was both impressed by their successes and[for a moment] disappointed in who I’d turned out to be. Nothing that I had planned for my life had turned out as I imagined. Briefly, I wondered if I had given up or lacked ambition in the first place. I ended up skimming the rest of the page to the very bottom, only noticing these emboldened words, the dream is following Christ. 

This week I’ve been pondering what it means to dream. The thing is, I barely recall what I felt that day. I couldn’t have imagined then that the haunting ache of desires that could not be would dissolve. Time is a tincture in that way, I think. Just as they say time heals all wounds, the passage of seasons–of joy and discomfort–has erased entirely my longing for what might have been. It was the famous virologist Jonas Salk who said, “Hope lies in dreams, in imagination and in the courage of those who dare to make dreams into reality”. And while I understand what he meant, I respectfully disagree. I think–at least for now–that dreaming requires perspective, not just a desire to do.  If I”m dreaming from a faulty foundation–whose hope lies in what I deem to be the next best thing–then I won’t ever be fulfilled. No matter how hard I imagine, or how courageously I strive to make those dreams happen, my heart will never rest.  We can “dare to make the dreams reality” but even then, where are we placing our hope?

Today as I watched my son tinkering with pots and pans, it was as if God graciously reminded me of that awkwardly tall middle school girl who used to wonder if she’d ever be a wife or mommy one day. Because then, it seemed overwhelming to believe that I would ever be noticed by a boy. Or of those days rehearsing through tears because nothing I accomplished seemed good enough. And even of that day, writing alone in my California kitchen–when my heart fell to pieces all over again at the familiar fear that I wasn’t living well. All at once I was lost in the journey so far–of schooling, marriage, moving, mothering–and my heart soared.

The dream is following Christ

Isn’t it interesting that in our formative years we waste so much time wishing the days were better, or more productive or the very best? When, in reality(and this is a theme I continue learning) we should number our days that we may apply our hearts to wisdom(Psalm 90:12)?

God in his perfect goodness sees those heartfelt desires. He delicately handles the dreams of each season–weeding out the treasure that won’t last, and producing fruit from those inspired by Him.

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But in His patience, he doesn’t just throw out what seems right and good in our hearts at the  time. Instead, he carefully crafts the dream for our good and His glory. He listens, He loves us faithfully and He continues to point us to the ultimate dream–communion with Himself. 


Today, whatever your dream is–surrender it to Christ. He knows your heart, and He desires to do immeasurably more than you could ask or imagine for the sake of His name and His renown. Anything you could dream for yourself pales in comparison to what He can do in and through you. Rest in the truth that the unfading dream lies in following Christ today, tomorrow and forever.

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Armchairs: a Lesson in Faithfulness

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 I don’t know about you, but this past week was a bit of a grind. I usually slink into a rhythm after the holiday scramble, but this month our family’s schedule had no choice but to jump head-on into busyness. Unregrettably(and with surprising enthusiasm) we have embraced full days, falling into bed both exhausted and hopeful. Mostly because the weariness of busyness feels right; normal. And we are desperate to be in that wonderful world of routine again. 

I confess that sometimes, the exhaustion of busyness leaves me listless. I(unlike my sweet husband) do not embrace the transition into a new routine well. For me, this has been most visible in my commitment to starting the day early. 

The dawn of the new year brought  a belated Christmas gift of two[long-desired] armchairs. These were chairs we had considered for years, but never allowed ourselves because “the timing wasn’t right”, they were “too expensive” or we had “nowhere to put them”. At the beginning of the year, we made a grand commitment(this was more mine than my husband’s because…he is far more disciplined than I am) to rise early together. I finally realized that the only way my introverted personality would find rest would be to embrace the unthinkable–an earlier alarm. Truth:  this is not me. I really love sleep. I mean, a lot. Ask any member of my family and they will wholeheartedly agree that I really enjoy being in “comfy clothes” snuggled under warm blankets. But I noticed that every time I awoke with the girls(meaning they came in with their standard,  “Mom, can you get me some milk?” morning greeting) I was cranky. Understandably so, right? Because who else wants to wake up to demands? In their defense, they don’t understand that questions can feel demanding sometimes. As far as they’re concerned(and there is some truth to this) it’s my job to meet their needs. But you get it, right? Thus the decision to arise early–like uncomfortably early(for me) was made. And so, morning-by-morning I cringed as my alarm rang out painfully early, and stumbled through our dark, cold kitchen to those beloved chairs. We bought them, I reasoned, and so I must. 

And so–I trudged through those first few days grumbling, yet consistent. It was cold, I was up before the sunrise, and it felt off. But then I remembered my fuzzy red polka-dotted robe. And there was a fireplace. And I could finish my tea without having to reheat it. And I got to spend time with my husband before the kids woke up. And this was the only time of day to enjoy my winter village[which is actually what I’m calling my Christmas village since I haven’t had the heart to pack it up yet] in quiet calm. And…and…

Something strange happened as I continued my date with the chairs: my heart changed. I began to see the fruit of this simple act of faithfulness. 

I recently finished reading the book of Joshua. His last charge to the people of Israel before his death really struck me. In fact, any time I see someone’s final words in scripture, it grips my heart. There’s something about the balance of caution and tenderness in Joshua’s tone that seemed to resonate with my heart this morning, in particular. After gathering the Israelites before him, Joshua recounted all the good things that the Lord had done for the people: freedom from captivity, providing a land promised and preserved just for them, destroying kings, cities and strongholds that they might prosper for the sake of God’s glory, preserving and purifying families throughout generations, etc. And then the passage shifts to Joshua’s command. The very first words uttered are these: 

Now therefore fear the Lord and serve him in sincerity and in faithfulness. Put away the gods that your fathers served beyond the River and in Egypt, and serve the Lord. And if it is evil in your eyes to serve the Lord, choose this day whom you will serve, whether the gods your fathers served in the region beyond the River or the gods of the Amorites in whose land you dwell. But as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.

Then…

The people answered, “far be it from us that we should forsake the Lord to serve other gods…”

Joshua 24:14-16a

At the ripe old age of 9 years, I gave my life to Christ. This is something that I pray for my children daily–that they might have a desire to know and love Him from a young age. For as long as I can remember, I have known stories in the Bible. Many of them are familiar–like old friends–But I have to admit(and maybe you’ve never felt this) sometimes my heart needs to seem them afresh. Sometimes, in my flesh, I don’t see the stories of scripture with wonder and awe. And sadly, I lack that passion filling my eyes in other, younger spiritual seasons[when I say younger, I mean those foundational years…when everything was exciting and new]. This discourages me at times, and forms an incorrect self-doubt within my mind. Of course, this is due to the inconsistent, temporal nature of my own fickle heart. Never has it been because God changes. It’s always only ever me. I get in the way, so to speak. 

Too often, I am like the Israelites–making lofty commitments, foolishly attempting faithfulness in my own strength.

Sincerity and steadfastness do not come naturally because I am flawed. Honestly, this realization discouraged my heart earlier this week. But then I considered those armchairs. It isn’t always easy to get up earlier. And in fact, I really struggled most days, but it became routine. And I my heart became thankful. That, to me is a very modest example of what it means to pursue this mysterious, unattainable-in-my-own-flesh faithfulness to which I’m called. When Joshua charged the Israelites, he knew that some of them would fail. He even reminded them later(vs. 19) that it would be impossible to serve God with their own hollow promises[ He was far too holy for that]. 

But God, in his perfect grace and goodness, will always preserve those who are truly His. 

We saw Him do it continually with the Israelites, and I’ve seen it in my own life, too. When steadfastness becomes a strain, I am reminded of my need to continue looking to Christ, by whom true sincerity and faithfulness is possible. 

For me, that means honoring little commitments for the sake of the biggest one, and watching how God graciously meets me there. It means offering my often faithless, grumbling heart to the One who created it, knowing that He alone will restore, supply and sustain[producing greater joy!] to the very end. 

redeemingthemundane

Today, whatever your faithfulness looks like, know it isn’t overlooked by this completely Holy, yet perfectly loving Father. He sees you doing the dishes, working on your business, changing dirty diapers, caring for your house-bound friend or family member, striving at your cubicle,etc. He knows your needs, and He will give you grace to carry on, for the sake of your good, His name and His renown.

PS–feel free to ask me how my morning routine is going–the Lord knows I need the accountability! 🙂