I’ve never considered myself a dreamer. A realist? Practical? Yes. A dreamer? No.
I don’t particularly see the glass as half full or half empty. I just see a glass with water in it. That’s the truth anyway, right?
I have also never considered myself an artist. Never. Ever. That is a term left for people that dance or paint or wear cut off sweatshirts that hang off one shoulder and have long, pretty hair. That’s never been me. Ever.
So the fact that these two words have been flittering around in my over-crowded brain recently has got me thinking. And now writing.
Am I a dreamer? Maybe I am. Maybe I’ve always been and I never took the time to embrace that part of me desiring to be let loose. To dream.
Am I an artist? Maybe I am. Maybe I’ve always had a vision in me that has never felt worthy of a place to land or be made known.
Because I am also a doubter. There is no doubt, this is truth. I’m not proud of my inclination to fear and worry and I can say I come by it naturally and that wouldn’t be a lie either. But, it’s also not an excuse.
I fear the unknown. I fear failing. I fear what I’m sure will happen even though it (usually) never does.
In all the years of trying to be something and someone I’ve made myself believe I am, maybe I’ve left the person I really am behind.
And that’s who I’m in the process of now discovering. This dreamer. This artist. I feel weird even putting those two words in association with “me.” But here I am eternalizing it and there is freedom in the saying so.
Sometimes we have to step out of who we have been to become who we really are.
Sometimes we have to embrace the person God made us to be in spite of the fear that says we can’t.
Sometimes we have to let go and let God in order to hold on to the person He made us to be.
I’m attempting to be and do bigger things than I’ve ever attempted. Not in my own power, which would be futile.
Only in His power and His way and His time will the picture be painted and eventually perfected. The portrait of my life.
He wants to do the same in us all. He wants us to hand Him the paintbrush and the pen and let Him write the words and paint the strokes over our lives the way He already has them laid out.
Our life is not ours to paint. He alone gives and He alone takes away. He has the perfect portrait of our life hanging in His house. We don’t get to see it until the day We are called Home as His children. And we never get to see it if we don’t call Him Father.
My pastor explained well how when one writes a letter our handwriting may tend to change along with the mood of our words.
Friend, the words of our lives change. Seasons of life come and go and people come and go and the one constant in life seems to be change. But there is another constant that is truly constant.
His name is God. The Creator. The Master Painter. The Perfect Penman. Who has written your story and painted my portrait perfectly.
He bids us to open our eyes to what He is writing and painting and to embrace what He has created as it changes and He stays the same.
Always there. Always with us. Always for us. Writing. Painting. The words of our life.
As we dare to dream what He has in store for us. What He has planned for us. Believing that all things really do work together for good for those that love the Lord and are called according to His purpose. This is truth.
This is the stuff dreams are made of.
Your newfound dreamer,
What are you dreaming today? I’d love to hear…