The Honor in Service

During the Oscars in 2015, one of the movies that received multiple nominations was "American Sniper." It's a moving story of one man's military service and his journey into the status of American hero.

Despite its graphic violence, a fair amount of profanity, and a less than happy ending, it broke multiple box office records and went on to become the highest grossing movie of 2014. What was the allure of this film in the hearts of movie goers?

I believe it's simple. An inspirational story like this brings out the patriotism of Americans, it reminds us of who our enemies are, and most importantly, it honors the service and struggle of men and women with a heart to protect their country.

In these days of terrorist organizations, civil wars, and complicated politics, people want something to believe in. Currently, the recent events in our country find us divided in our allegiances and divided in our ideas about our government. However, I would hope that we can still be unified in our love for our country, unified in our appreciation for the freedoms it affords us, and unified in our honor for the men and women who so bravely serve to protect those freedoms. 

As a young college boy with only a quarter in his pocket, my dad was approached by an United States Air Force recruiter. With 2 years of college studies behind him, he literally was out of money and out of options. With youthful thinking and ideas, there was likely little of the 'God and country' energy that prompts so many to join. He looked back towards the tumultuous home where his alcoholic father raged, and he looked forward to the promise of a regular paycheck and vision for the next stage of his life. His decision was an easy one. He joined the Air Force.

As a child, I often heard strange names of places when my dad recollected his years of service. Okinawa was one that seemed so odd and far away to my youthful mind. But my dad exuded pride when he talked of those days. I believe he became a better man during his service because it forced him to focus on something higher and bigger than himself. That's what service is all about. All of his brothers also did their part. One joined the Navy, one the Marines, and the last served in the Coast Guard. That was what you did during those years. You did your part to fight for our great nation, not against your fellow citizens or your leaders, but against threats and powers outside our borders.

I started to write about the fear and unrest that is gripping our nation, and I chose instead to talk about honor. I believe in focusing on the integrity and bravery of those who have served our country, that we, as the citizens they seek to protect, can focus our emotions, our voices, and our energy on higher ideals as well. Like honor. Like unity. Like service. Like love.

The Bible says in Romans that we should "give honor to whom honor is due." Galatians also tells us to "serve one another humbly in love."

I honor you, dad, (and so many others) for your service. Thank you. May we continue to be inspired by your example.

My father, Paul, in his
high school yearbook

A Civic Responsibility

In two days, Americans will decide the outcome of one of the most controversial and divisive elections in our history. Many citizens of countries outside the United States are watching to see what fate may befall our nation, anticipating the impact that will be felt worldwide as we elect a new president. I have said little publicly about the election, about my vote (which was cast 2 weeks ago), or the candidates, good or bad. I have done my part to educate myself, to evaluate my values, and to prayerfully consider my responsibility. I have tried to advise those who asked privately to focus on policy, on party direction, on personal values, rather than on candidate's flaws. Over the last few days, however, I have begun to feel a need to speak up. My thoughts are not meant to sway you in a certain direction, but to prompt you to think about the gravity of the situation preceding November 8 and then in the days, weeks, and months that will follow that date. 

As I observe the two primary candidates who are bitterly opposed to each other and to their respective polarizing policies, I find myself considering our present situation in light of history. I am a perpetual learner, and have been focused during the last several months on historical literature in the time periods from 1915-1945, including the Russian Revolution, the World Wars, the Nazi regime and the Holocaust. Most recently, I completed One Day in the Life Of Ivan Denisovich by Alexander Solzhenitsyn and Animal Farm by George Orwell. Both books explore Russia during the times of the Revolution and subsequent years afterward, including the Gulags (Russian labor camps), and the rule of Joseph Stalin. To be clear, I am not comparing our presidential candidates to any of these leaders. I am simply suggesting that we look at how leaders affected the course of countries in a relatively short period of 30 years. There is currently a power struggle, and a battle for the direction our country will take over the next 4 and possibly the next 30 years. 

Comprehensive national change (both positive and negative) does not occur in a day, but comes with systematic adjustments over extended periods of time. Each choice that we make as individuals and as nations leads the way to either opportunity or oppression. The most astute leaders understand that redirecting a mass of people must be done slowly and deliberately, where the sense of the revolution (as in turning a large ship) is barely perceptible to those who are affected. As Christians, I believe it is our duty to be informed both historically and currently, as well as to be sensitive to the leading of the Holy Spirit in our own sphere of influence. We can not be passive, nor can we be silent.

Fictional Flag from Animal Farm

Several relevant ideologies were highlighted to me in Animal Farm. First, there was a progressive loss of freedoms. In the allegory, the animals, after revolting against the humans who lorded over them, gradually give away (by passivity) their newly gained freedoms, falsely believing that they are better off than they were in the past, even as their suffering grows. The way in which this was achieved is striking. The basic laws and principles that governed their society after the revolution were slowly and systematically redefined. The once absolute rights and laws were gradually reinterpreted and then rewritten. By the end, there was no connection at all to the farm that once was and the one it had become. In my opinion, this is one of the most essential of issues we must consider when casting a vote for a candidate: how that person will value and uphold the principles and ideals that were central to the creation and inception of our country, including the freedoms that we hold most dear.

One truth I find most poignant, highlighted both in the Bible, in our constitution, and in the book Animal Farm is the fundamental right to life of a human being. Orwell writes of the animalism 6th commandment that 'No animal shall kill any other animal,' following the crux of the 6th Commandment of the Bible, "Thou shalt not kill." By the end of the book, the commandment had been re-written to read 'No animal shall kill any other animal without cause,' creating a vast array of interpretive space for what would be justifiable 'cause.' I sense we are progressively allowing our own laws and principles to be amended beyond what was originally intended.

The other vivid comparison in the book was the tendency of the characters to be influenced by propaganda. Orwell candidly states in the preface to the Ukrainian edition of Animal Farm, that he was struck by “how easily totalitarian propaganda can control the opinion of enlightened people in democratic countries.” Though we live in a democracy instead of a dictatorship, I am watching the effect of propaganda around me. The media has relatively unlimited freedom to express the news as they see it, which can sometimes be aimed at a central objective as Orwell observed. Granted, I am happy we no longer live under the restrictions of censorship, that being the primary reason for Solzhenitsyn's imprisonment in 1945, but we must responsibly synthesize and interpret the information that is at our disposal.

You might ask yourself, how can this happen, when we freely choose our leaders, and many times they enjoy large support along the way? How can such dramatic changes occur as happened during the early to mid-1900s, and what do we stand to learn from these atrocities?

I believe that we walk in a perilous place when we cease to think and reason for ourselves. We allow the media an overly influential place in our thoughts. We do not logically determine our direction. We become emotional in our decisions rather than systematic. We allow personal offenses to detract from our ability to devise purposeful solutions.

Secondly, when inconsistencies present themselves and there is a vacuum of straightforward thought, many citizens simple choose to be silent. We ignore our warnings, we stand on the sidelines, we believe that someone else will fill the gap. In doing so, we have handed over another freedom, the right to speak our minds.

Thankfully, I can write these words without fear of being arrested. The worst that could happen to me is to lose a few friends on social media or perhaps be publicly criticized. Solzhenitsyn could not speak freely in Russia, and he spent 8 years in a forced labor camp because he criticized Stalin (some accounts state that he simply expressed politically careless statements) in a personal correspondence. Though he received the Nobel Prize for Literature, he was soon thereafter arrested for treason and exiled from his country for writing of his experiences in the Soviet labor camps. 

In addition to stirring you to reflect on your duties as a citizen and your vote, I also want to encourage you to consider how you will approach Wednesday, November 9th, the day after the election. Half of our nation will be disappointed, angry, hopeless. Some of those may even turn to criticism or violence. The other half will be elated, celebratory, hopeful. Some may even gloat in such a way as to incite negative reactions. The opportunity for division in our country will loom even larger at this juncture. Whatever side you find yourself on, you will have a choice as a citizen and as a Christian to support the winning candidate, and to be an agent of peace. Whether or not you agree does not diminish your role as a citizen to uphold, support, and pray for your leaders. Also, as citizens we can encourage unity instead of division. I encourage you to consider this in advance and position yourself to bring light, to help, and to heal our nation as we move beyond the election date. Our future is not yet determined. We have power to be a part of this historical time, in an active and responsible way. But ultimately, we must remember the motto that lies on our currency and at the heart of our nation. In God we trust. Yes, we do.

Whatever is Lovely, Think About That

I love the outdoors. As I admire the splendor of creation, my soul is realigned with what is right and good in the world.

Recently, my youngest girls and I went hiking on a popular Colorado trail. We had a wonderful time on a rocky wooded trail that snaked along a brook. We stopped to admire the wildflowers that grew along the trail. One such flower was especially striking. It was a purple and white flower, standing out amongst the more common pink wild roses and yellow buttercups. We noted this flower, photographed it as a memento of our journey, and began the drive home.

We traversed the winding roads and Olivia made an observation: several roads bore the name ‘Columbine’ and she wondered if they had been named after the tragedy that occurred in the Colorado town bearing that name. "These roads were named well before that," I said. "I think Columbine is a flower." After a quick search, we found that the Columbine flower is actually designated as the state flower of Colorado. The flower that we had seen on our trail was in fact, Columbine -- the true namesake for the roads we were passing.

I began to ponder this discovery. A thing of beauty had once defined the state. Now the state was marred by images of a mass shooting at a high school.

When I got home, I did an Internet search on Columbine, and nearly every image that came up referred to the now famous massacre that occurred in Columbine, CO at Columbine High School. I scrolled down for several pages before I saw the flower that bore this name. I had to really search to find an image of the beautiful flower. It was hidden amongst all the references to the shooting.

Something beautiful had been obscured by something evil. As is the case sometimes in life, the virtue had been nearly lost in the midst of the tragedy. But, wildflowers have an ability to bloom in harsh, unforgiving conditions. They persevere to maintain life year after year, despite drought, wildfires, and floods.

One of man’s primary callings in the garden was to give names to all of creation. One day, a scientist found this flower in the Rocky Mountains and named it Aquilegia caerulea -- Columbine. And God said, "It is good."

Columbine was originally the name of God-ordained magnificence and life. That name and the goodness it inspires can be redeemed. Change begins with a thought. Thoughts can determine attitude and action.

We can choose to look for the pure and true in what may seem false. We can call forth beauty and reclaim the loveliness of creation. We can displace the evil with righteousness.

What though the radiance which was once so bright 
Be now for ever taken from my sight, 
Though nothing can bring back the hour 
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower, 
We will grieve not, rather find 
Strength in what remains behind; 
In the primal sympathy 
Which having been must ever be; 
In the soothing thoughts that spring 
Out of human suffering; 
In the faith that looks through death, 
In years that bring the philosophic mind.
                      -- William Wordsworth

We have difficulties and trials, but God has also given us strength and faith. Tenacity. Courage. Hope. Vision. The flower remains as beautiful as it ever was. The good is indeed present in the midst of the bad. May we have the eyes to see it.

Healing Hands

This week is National Nurses Week, a time when we take the opportunity to honor and express our gratitude for those in this noble profession. It takes a special kind of person to be a nurse. My mom is a nurse, and she retired last year after working more than 50 years in a nursing home. What an amazing life she has had.

During a part of my childhood, I dreamed of becoming a nurse or a vet. I wanted to care for and heal living beings. I quickly realized, however, that my inability to overcome the sight of blood might be a stumbling block to success in these fields. As for my mom, she never hesitated with childhood injuries. Others had the option of family physicians or ER visits. We had my mom, the nurse. If you need a few stitches, a butterfly bandage will do. Mom can fix it. If you're not feeling quite right, there were multiple medications and vitamins to make you well. If you happen to accidentally slam a pickup truck door on your finger and it is hanging by a sliver of skin...Well, Mom can fix it. She knows what to do. If the cat gets his tail caught in the car motor, the nurse will arrive to find him, clean him up, and help him to heal. Healing hands are not just reserved for people, you know. Any wounded creature could find healing in the hands of the nurse.

Nurses may be the most needed yet most underrated service person around, with teachers coming in a close second. If you ever hear a bad nurse story, you can rest assured there was a valid reason behind it. You know the one -- way too busy to care, coming only after 5 beeps of the "need help" button. Many times the reason behind those stories is that the nurse was given twice as many patients as she could reasonably handle, and skipped her lunch to catch up on the paperwork required after giving her patients their necessary care. Perhaps the nurse who is slow to attend to a needy patient just had to process an emergency for another. The daily experiences of a nurse are never identical and never ordinary.

Being a nurse means means service and sacrifice -- other people always come first. In our home, it meant that we would have to share my mom on Easter, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. There was never a year when she was with her family for every holiday. Her patients needed her, and she was there to answer the call.

Nurses can adapt to working at any hour of the day or night. They have to be flexible. If they aren't in first shift meetings at 6:45 am, you will find them walking the hallways on the third shift at 2 am or working a double 12-hour shift. When we rubbed the sleep out of our eyes as children and trudged to the kitchen on school days, we could smell breakfast, kept warm in the retro green bottom oven. Mom had risen at 5:30 am to get ready for her day and to provide us with a hot cooked breakfast.

My mom's days of nursing required special attire. I can remember the white dress uniform (starched, pressed, and hanging in the closet), special white nursing panty hose (carefully hand washed and hanging over the shower curtain rod), and the white Ball-Band leather nursing shoes. Lastly and most memorably, there was the nurse's cap. The nurse's hat required a special process to get it just right. My mom's method was to drench it in starch and carefully press it onto the bathroom mirror to dry. Once dry, the stiff white material could be peeled off and folded into the final form, ready to be bobby pinned into place. 

The nurse's implements were no less memorable. A white nursing version of a pocket protector held the special scissors that we kids were not allowed to use. Bandage scissors were bent at a 45° angle a few inches from the end, with a protective "foot" to allow them to slide under and enable safe removal of bandages. As kids, we thought they were just plain cool. Also included in that pocket pouch were my mom's ink pens, nail clippers, and the blue name tag bearing her name, Mrs. C. Raynor, R.N., Head Nurse. Her stethoscope and blood pressure cuff completed the outfit.

There were a few rare occasions when we got to visit mom at work. Except for an injury that required her attention, we didn't go very often. When we did visit, my favorite memory of Wesley Nursing Home was the ice machine. It was full of the really good kind of ice, the small round crunchy balls that make even a drink of water so much more special. 

Wesley was not like a hospital or a physician's office. None of these patients would ever leave, except on that final trip when they had breathed their last breath. Of all the things my mom had to face in her nursing job, death seemed to be the most difficult to my young mind. As the years passed, she began to care for patients whose years were less than her own, and whose longevity was a fraction of her increasing age. Age advancement and the sometimes unfortunate grip of degenerative brain functions knew no boundaries. Throughout her years as a nurse, my mom cared for dignitaries, writers, teachers, professionals, and blue collar workers. She cared for those of every race and ethnicity. At this final stage in their lives, neither money nor social class afforded any luxury or any distinction. Yet, the nurses who attended these people cared for them with dignity, respect, and with healing hands.

My young senses were assaulted as I entered the rectangular, nondescript building. Wesley was a private advanced years nursing facility operated by the Methodist Church. The bright florescent lighting reflected off the white ceiling, giant white speckled linoleum floor tiles, and whitewashed walls at Wesley. There was an aroma of cleansers and old age. The rickety steel doors of the elevator slowly opened to expose a small paneled, boxlike structure that slowly carried us up to the 2nd floor. The scurrying white-uniformed bodies of nursing employees darted in and out of open patient room doors. Semi-mobile elderly men shuffled along the hallways in their wheelchairs by using their one good foot to propel them slowly along. Elderly women doddered along, mumbling quietly to themselves.

Times changed as they always do and so did my mom's nursing persona. The starched hat was the first thing to go. The white dress and white panty hose also gave way to colored printed uniform tops, pants, and sneakers to accommodate the constant hours of walking and standing. The job remained mostly the same, and the hours took their weekly toll. Though she was sometimes drained and weary from long hours of care giving, there were many times when my mom was quick to say, "I love my work." She truly did.

I've met many other nurses during the course of my life, and they all have the same innate skill to care. To really care. Brenda has a kind and compassionate heart, one ready to fix anything whether it be in the ER or on a mission trip. Janet is a cardiac nurse: focused, careful, and calm, even in the midst of a crisis. Elizabeth & Debbie earned their nursing degrees later in life, juggling the challenges of marriage and children to answer the call to heal. Stacia & Laura have served in the children's hospital, perhaps one of the most challenging places to commit one's healing hands. Jordan & Naomi deliver babies, and have celebrated new life in their hands on a regular basis. I have other nurse friends in various specialties, but they all have the same heart and the same hands -- expressive, caring, serving. Everyone should have at least one nurse in their life. They truly are special people.

Last year, at age 78, my mom entered her final retirement from nursing, but her nursing legacy will live on. Through her expression of love, inspiration, and example, her first granddaughter recently graduated with a nursing degree. There won't be any white starched hats or clean, pressed dresses, but there will be a servant's heart and healing hands embodied in my niece, Brandi, as these timeless nursing qualities pass from one generation to another. Thank you to my mom, and to all the nurses who use their hands to care and to heal.

Your Report Card: "C+" ???

Do you ever feel like you can do better? Do you ever feel like you can be a little more faithful with your goals, do a little better with your job, exercise a little more, eat a little better, make a little more money, be more kind? In other words, do you ever feel like your 'good effort' always seems to fall short?

I have often considered myself a proponent of being excellent in everything. I’ve encouraged so many to do the same, and to maximize the gift that God put inside of them. If He is a creator, a perfect creator, and we are made in his image, then we should also create (perhaps not perfectly, but at least on a pretty high level). Unfortunately, my judgment of where that level of excellence is and whether or not I've reached it seems to constantly change like a bouncing buoy on the stormy waves of the ocean.

My desire to achieve "better" and "best" started in grade school and continued into every other area of my life. Though the results of my hard work were sometimes noteworthy, many times my life lacked rest and peace, and the satisfaction of a job 'well done.' Many times I saw my fruit as only "good." Average. Satisfactory. In other words, my life grade was a "C+". Unlike Ralphie in A Christmas Story who believed his Christmas essay deserved an A++++, I knew my self-imposed grade was about what I deserved. That being said, I was still deflated with my C+. I wanted an A.

Societal influences do not help this internal conflict. There is always a pressure (sometimes subtle, sometimes overt) to be more, to do more, to earn more, to have more… to always succeed higher. We often compare ourselves, our children, our job, our home, our accomplishments to those around us.

Now don’t get me wrong here. I do believe that we should aim high. Dreams are meant to propel us into places we never thought we could achieve. Influence in society as successful people requires a relevance and an adeptness at a talent or gift. As Christians, we are called to be salt. Salt changes its environment, and its absence is noticed.

It's not the goals that I'm speaking of. It's the result. It's the grade. Where did I land? In my mind, it was always short of my goal.

As I was contemplating all of this, I remembered a passage of scripture that I had read hundreds of times. No doubt you may have read it many times before. Even those who don’t profess faith are familiar with it. But sometimes a familiar passage can take on a new meaning. This was one of those times.

In the story of creation in the Bible, there is a phrase that repeats over and over throughout Genesis 1. It reads exactly the same in different translations. This phrase occurs after the conclusion of each element of creation.

“God saw that it was good.”

Good.

Not perfect.

Not even very good.

Just good.

What does good mean? I started to think of current educational standards, i.e. grades, as a way to evaluate our work. Even to adults, grades or performance reviews are an indication of how we are doing. If God were creating the world today and he was giving a grade to his creation by his view that it was good, what would the grade for “Good” be?

After reading multiple sites about what grades really mean and what I knew to be true, I determined that God was giving his work, his amazing creative work, somewhere between a “B” and a “C.” In other words, "C+".

Ok, now before you declare me a heretic and ignore the rest of what I have to say, let me finish. Hear me out until the end.

At the very end of creation culminating in man’s formation, when God surveyed everything, all of it, the sum total of all the “good,” the end result was ... “VERY GOOD.”

At no individual point along the way was anything considered “very good.” It wasn’t until all the work, all the results were put together, viewed not as separate events but as a string pieced together into a whole, that this designation was applied.

Immediately after this ultimate evaluation occurred and everything was finished, it allowed a very important and deliberate act to happen. “He rested.”

As I applied this to my own life, I realized that my ability to rest and to be satisfied is directly proportional to how I feel I am doing. Have I achieved excellent, very good, good, or have I failed?

When we have a connection with God that allows us to work at individual items in our lives to the point of them being “good” and when we are ok with “good” being enough, the overall perspective of all these “good” things put together will synthesize into something that is “very good.” In other words, we don’t have to strive to be excellent at every single thing we do. If we are hoping to achieve that, we find ourselves weary, unrested, and in some cases exhausted.

I believe if our perspective is to look at all the good, we can then string it together and view it as something very, very good. Not only that, we can truly rest. We can know that we are doing what we were created to do and doing it well.

Now for the verse that I alluded to above -- the "well done, my good and faithful servant" verse that many of us might have no doubt quoted. When Jesus told the parable of the talents, He uses the phrase, "Well done". Of course that's what we all want to hear, and at first glance, it seems to be contradictory to the verses in Genesis. When we put the verse in perspective, however, this affirmation is said only after the master returned from being gone for a LONG TIME. Once again, the 'well done' or 'very good' designation comes at the end of a progressive string of 'good' decisions and actions. Who knows how long the master was gone. A week, a month, a year, 10 years? The point is, it was a long time. We have to look at our life as a long journey that we are somewhere in the middle of.

The problem still remains... what is good?

Eating from the one tree, the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, led to the fall of man, the entrance of sin, and a host of other things, including a perpetual need to work and a difficulty in finding rest. Why? Because we now have to figure out what is good. And for someone like me, good is never good enough. This constant pursuit leads to more work and more striving. Knowing how to define good was the temptation then and it is our temptation now.

As you examine the different elements of your life, I suggest you look at them through God's lens. Are you making a "C+"? Then it is good. If you feel like a failure, remember that no final grade is ever based on any one thing, and your semester isn't over yet. Sometimes you'll feel excellent and sometimes just good and sometimes like a failure. It's all ok. The purpose of not eating the fruit from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil is that Adam and Eve didn't have to figure it out. They could rest in relationship with and trusting of God that they would not be judged on every single success or failure.

I'm still a proponent of excellence. But I'm also a proponent of relationship with God. I have learned not to exhaust myself doing more, achieving more, trying to keep up with those around me or with my own view of excellence. Instead I have kept the connection that allows me to see my life and work as good.

Find out from God what GOOD really means for you. Knowing that all of our good, in connection with a perfect creator, will ultimately be pieced together into something beautiful and very, very good. When you realize that, your "C+" is good enough.

Subsequently, you will be able to rest, consistently, knowing that you don’t have to figure it all out. One step at a time, one task at a time. It is good.


Related blog post:  Framing the Pages of Your Life

When Your Parachute Doesn't Open

I suppose God can speak to you through the most unlikely of people. You could guess that God might speak to you through your pastor, your Bible study leader, or even your friend. The truth is, he can use anything or anyone.

Today, I heard God speaking to me through a game show host. Yes, that’s right. Steve Harvey had a word from God aimed right at me. In his words (and they are powerful words), "You Gotta Jump."

The heart of the message, really, was to make your life count, to not merely exist but to pursue your dreams and engage your gifts. It's what I was talking about in my recent blog on dreams.

Well, the truth is, I did jump. I jumped right into pursuing some of my dreams. I jumped right into the unknown, right into nothingness, right into things I may not be qualified for nor prepared for.

And guess what? My parachute didn't open.

Instead of soaring into the great unknown, exhilarated by the sensation of achieving my goals, I instead was dashed upon the rocks. Discouragement formed like a wall blocking my path, daring me to rise. Raising myself up bloody and bruised, intimidated by the wall in front of me, I went back to my starting place. I remembered some of God's promises. I gathered my courage. And I jumped again.

My parachute didn't open. Again.

After the second attempt and the subsequent failure to launch, I was just about ready to shelf the very things that had given me hope and vision -- shelf them until some undetermined time in the future. 'This must not be God's will or his timing,' I thought.

Now, I do need to say that these 'interruptions' that short circuited my journey were not minor. They affected me deeply. They threatened my resolve. They stole my resource. They sidelined me.

I was struggling to get back on track when a letter came from a dear friend. She shared with me her hopes and dreams for this season, and how my words had encouraged her. As I read the letter, her words became life right back to me, inspiring me yet again to take the plunge. I began to see that my expectations of unimpeded progress were not realistic. My pursuit would require much more time, effort, and perseverance. I began to realize that I had gotten a little bruised through a couple of setbacks, but I didn't die. Neither had my dreams.

When you jump into something new, it is rare to succeed the first, or even the second time. Normally, there is a fall, and you gather some injuries along the way. The cuts form scabs that heal, and the skin toughens itself to withstand more the next time.

Many times, the parachute doesn’t open. The doors don’t open right away. The grace isn’t always there at first.

Sometimes opposition is in direct correlation to the dream. The roadblock can be a loss of finances, time or other resources needed to fulfill the dream. Other times, it’s merely a distraction, usually a big one, that takes your time, focus, and energy away from pursuit of the dream. You may face obstacles of discouragement. Intimidation. Unbelief. Hopelessness. Reminders of past failures. Do remember that we have an enemy. He really likes to try to kill things when they are small, in their infancy and growing.

I believe, though, that there is a pushing through, a 'get yourself up and get a move on' attitude that can eventually make for some successes along the way, and progress towards the goal. In addition, we must remember that there are times when we need support. We need help. We need other people to help us re-enter the race. We are not meant to be islands unto ourselves, but a functioning body that works together.

Nothing that comes quickly or easily endures. The seeds that sprout quickly have shallow roots. Radishes are among the fastest sprouting seeds, and likewise they can be easily uprooted anytime in their development.

My daughter planted a redwood seed at the beginning of the year, and we are still waiting patiently for that seed to germinate and grow into one of the strongest and tallest plants in existence. It takes patience. It takes constant effort. It takes a relentless hope. It takes time.

So I've picked myself up from 2 different falls, and I'm heading back to the edge to jump again. And again and again. Each time, I'll be stronger from the last jump. I'll be smarter. My roots will be growing deeper. My commitment will grow stronger. And eventually, my parachute will open up for me. My gift, my dream will make a way.

Come on. Jump with me. If you already have jumped and fallen, then jump again. If you have jumped and succeeded, then jump higher. Eventually, our dreams will open up and carry us.

Dedicated to my friend, Debbie, and others who are jumping along with me. 

dream.

Do you know the place that is just between asleep and awake? It is a place where possibility exists. It is the place between what could be and what is. Sometimes it is the place between a sweet sense of utopia and a stark contrast of wearisome reality. In this place, the lines become blurred.

I believe the transition between one year and the next is a little bit like that. There is a sense of hope and newness that awakens our senses. We start to forget the drudgery of daily tasks, we slow down, and we take time to believe in possibility, to express gratitude, to consider. We think of ways to better ourselves and our situation. We leave some things behind. We start anew. 

Sometimes, we begin to dream.

2016 is a year to dream. It is a year to start seeing dreams become reality. For me, the conception of this potential began in early December 2015 at a ladies Bible study. One of our table leaders, my dear friend Brenda, passed around a tin of handmade gifts. They were simple bookmarks that included a single word. All the words were visionary, fun, and inspiring. I searched through the box until I found my word.

dream.

Wow. My word was a verb, not a noun. Actually, it was a command.

My momentary enthusiastic energy quickly waned throughout the course of the day, and I brought home the bookmark and deposited it on my desk. My desk... well, that is the place where random mail, notes and trinkets can fall into the sea of the forgotten. Many important items eventually end up being stored near here, but in the purgatory of disorganization, the judgment seat of things that are ultimately cherished or discarded, some items become, in a sense, lost. This seed of a dream found its way into that pile. And there, it waited.

A few weeks passed, Christmas whizzed by, and I sat anticipating the next major holiday: New Years Day. That's when the nighttime dreams began. I was a little shocked because I haven’t had any substantive, memorable dreams for a long time.

First came one very clear dream about me, an inspirational man I admire, and my glaring insecurities. He believed in me in the dream, despite my inability to believe in myself.

The next night another very clear dream came. This dream revealed some things from my past, several emergency situations, and my confrontation with fear. I was victorious. Don’t you love it when you win in your dreams?

Each time I dreamed, I related the dream, and took note that something was happening.

The third night another dream occurred that was directly related to a very real and current situation I was struggling to walk through. The images and symbolism were clear and very easy to understand. This dream helped to specifically navigate a very delicate circumstance with what I felt was wisdom directly from God.

The next night, I did not dream, but instead I spent part of my day inspired to dream of my future and to write it down. This continued for 2 more days.

Finally, last night I dreamed again. It wasn’t a complicated dream, but it included my youngest daughter and a friend of hers, happily interacting. It was an image of spontaneity and fun.

My four dreams communicated some very important principles:

1.  Others believe in you, even when you don't believe in yourself. We need each other.
2.  You can overcome your mistakes, your past, and your fears. You can win.
3.  God is always ready to give wisdom and help, even when we forget to ask.

4.  Joy is a critical part of our existence.

Incidentally, while I was dreaming of my daughter, she was dreaming too. She came downstairs this morning, excited, eager to relay her dream to me. She began telling me the dream, while simultaneously recording it on her phone. Fifteen minutes later, after extremely detailed scenarios and sometimes seeming randomness, she completed her retelling. 

‘What do you think it means, overall?” I asked her, sitting at my desk and separating out junk from treasure.

She told me, in one complete and succinct sentence. Stunned, I realized that she was relating an exact topic her dad and I had discussed the day before about a future plan we were considering. Her interpretation of her dream represented a family dream we have had for several years.

Instantly, I remembered the bookmark. Digging my way into the piles, I found it. It was just as full of potential as it was the first time I chose it. Then I knew. Things could not have been more clear if they had been written on the wall.

This is a year to dream. This is a year to give expression to those dreams. This expression will access the power for dreams to be realized.

A dream will continue in the realm of fantasy, shrouded in misty potential, until finds expression. An expressed dream has inherent power within it to become a reality. It is a seed. The expression of a dream is like giving sun and water to a seed. The seed of a dream can then germinate and begin to take on life.

“And then God answered: ‘Write this. Write what you see. Write it out in big block letters so that it can be read on the run. This vision-message [or dream] is a witness pointing to what’s coming. It aches for the coming – it can hardly wait! And it doesn’t lie. If it seems slow in coming, wait. It’s on its way. It will come right on time.” (Hab. 2:2-3, MSG)

Before you attack the resolutions and the responsibilities, and before the busyness of 2016 begins full force, take some time to dream. Dreaming isn't about things you should do. It is not about things that will likely already happen. Dreaming is about what might be, what you hope for. It involves faith. It also involves courage to move those dreams into reality. 

In the precious time before you are fully engaged and awake -- that space between what is and what could be -- dream. And then, express your dreams. Write them down. Tell someone.

The dreams, and their subsequent expression, will carry with them the life and potential necessary for fulfillment. 

Happy 2016. 

“There is a point when you stand at the edge of hard evidence, look across to what lies on the other side, and step forward. Otherwise you wind up going nowhere.”  
                                       -- Jodi Picoult