I'm a daydream believer

“Until the time came to fulfill his dreams,
The LORD tested Joseph’s character.”
Psalm 105:19

Something about this verse gnaws at me.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about God’s plans and purposes and why he might do certain things in a certain way on a certain timetable. It’s so hard to understand sometimes. And then, every now and then, it’s clear enough to make me wonder if I was swimming in a see-through ocean all this time with my eyes shut, instead of wading through the muddy lake I thought I had jumped into.

I used to have so many dreams. When I was a little girl, I wanted to be a writer. I wrote all the time—poems, short stories, books. I’d written my first chapter book by the second grade. By fifth grade, I’d gotten my first story published in a magazine—a story about a girl who was paralyzed and suddenly begins to walk again. My mom still has all the manuscripts from that time, back when I really believed in the dream.

I wanted to be a singer, too. I started singing solos in church when I was 5. I sang someone else’s songs all through high school, became our school’s designated National Anthem singer. In college, I sang the National Anthem for Texas State’s baseball games and basketball games—but that was more to find the man of my dreams than anything else. And I did, too. He sat in the fifth row the third time I sang for the women’s basketball team.

My dreams seemed to fade a little as I tiptoed through each year, wondering if, hoping that this would be the year. Now their outlines are so faint I can barely see them.

I used to blame God for that. He took too long to fulfill the dreams. He made them too hard to reach. He disappointed me one too many times, made it too hard to believe. But I can see now that it’s my faith, or my lack of it, that is stealing the clarity of those dreams.

I don’t know where it all began. Maybe that’s not for me to know. Maybe knowing would give me the crutch-of-an-excuse, like all those troubled teenagers who break the law and then blame their parents for raising them poorly. I could blame my dad and the way he left when I was just on the brink of becoming a woman and how that made me feel insignificant and unloved. I could blame him for choosing another woman and the kids he had with her over the three he had with my mom and the way that made me want to be perfect so he would love me, too. I could blame him for making my mom work three jobs to raise her children while he evaded child support and the way that wounded me deep down inside.

But the thing is, it’s really up to me whether those wounds heal with or without scar tissue.

Ben and I were talking last night about the situation we’re in. Progeny has booked four solid weeks of camps in June. Ben can’t take a leave of absence from his part-time job, which provides our health benefits. He’s been told he’ll have to quit and then reapply if he wants to work after the camps in June. Which means we’ll lose our benefits.

At the same time, I’ve been asked to take over my boss’s job. The uppers told me they are “impressed” with my “work ethic” and “dedication to the job.” This after working 70 hours a week trying to keep the communication department at The United Methodist Church on its feet. I’ve got a list of 24 people who have left messages on my voicemail, but this week is a writing week, so there’s no time to call them back. Next week is my page design week, so there won’t be time then, either.

I haven’t seen my family in a month. I get home while Jadon is napping, and as soon as he wakes, we pack into the van and head up to my office until Ben picks him up at 7 p.m. I get home at 10:30, right around the time Jadon goes to bed.

So when the uppers even mentioned my “work ethic,” a red flag waved at me.

I still have a dilemma, though. I’ve been offered a promotion that would be great for my career. Progeny is moving in the direction of full-time ministry. The uppers are impressed with my 70-hour-a-week, sacrifice-time-with-my-family work ethic. Progeny offers no health benefits, no guarantee of a paycheck every week or two weeks or month.

My faith is having trouble. I keep looking back at this promotion offer and justifying my lean to accept it. It makes sense. God has gifted me with writing. I communicate well with people (even though my husband might disagree…). It has opened so many doors for Progeny.

But I can’t do both. I’ve realized that in the last few weeks. I’m so tired I feel like I might die of exhaustion. My head has been aching for days. I can’t be effective at both these jobs—and my responsibility at home as a wife and mother—because I’m just too tired, and I’m falling apart, becoming somebody I didn’t used to be, somebody I don’t even like.

So I asked God this morning to help me. I didn’t really specify why I needed help or with what exactly he should help. He sent me the verse above. And I feel like something has opened deep down inside, like the dreams and their fading outlines are being traced with a permanent marker by an invisible hand.

Progeny doesn’t make sense. Taking time away from a steady job to finish my novel doesn’t make sense, not in my practical eyes. Not when we have a baby and a mortgage and utility bills to pay.

But they are my dreams.

God never intended our journeys toward our dreams to be easy. He never meant them to make sense. I think sometimes we believe he did, and when it’s harder than we thought it would be or when people begin to look at us like we’re crazy, we chalk it up to another wrong step instigated by our fleshly nature.

God never intended it to be easy because there is no faith in easy.

So this is where my journey begins. This is where I can begin to pull out the thorn that’s been scratching me all my life, the thorn that keeps me from believing. It’s in there pretty deep, and it might take years—and many failed attempts—to get it out. But it starts here.

And when people ask me why I didn’t take that step up the ladder of my career, I want to say, “I did. I climbed off the ladder that had distracted me for a while and climbed onto the one that leads right up to the kingdom of heaven on earth.”

Thank you, God, for the hope that chases dreams and for the faith it takes to follow them.