I used to dream of being a singer. It started in the early days of my dad’s song leading at church. He would go practice and my sisters and I would assume the stage with our microphone stands. We were good {at least we thought we were good} without microphones or an audience. I’m not sure what I loved about singing, but it certainly wasn’t my ability to differentiate a melody from a harmony!

I eventually gave up my rock star dream and moved on to another. I can’t be sure exactly what that dream was, but it surely was somewhere between modeling and becoming a well-respected break-dancer. I’m sad to say that neither of those materialized {shocker}.

Dreaming is good for the soul. It’s fun to imagine doing something meaningful with your life. Dreaming requires both imagination and belief. Seems like dreaming comes naturally when you are young, but far less likely as you age. What happens in between those times? Life happens. Disappointments happen. Somehow cynicism moves in, and imagination driven by belief subsides.

To be honest, I didn’t realize I had stopped dreaming for things just outside of reach. I had subtlety assumed the role of realist-stifling both the freedom and possibilities of a dreamer. My world lost dimension and color. My perspective grew dull and pragmatic. Except–an unspoken dream or two still remained deep in the secret places of my heart. There’s no risk in an unspoken dream, after all.

A dream of mine is currently in the process of becoming a reality. Let me explain.

I love words. I have always enjoyed stringing them together to communicate a message. Sometimes the messages were to my parents, once the words came together in the form of a poem for a high school friend we buried far too soon, and other times they were strictly to confirm Friday night plans. Words possess the ability to move my sorrows outward, and to release the myriad of thoughts that consume my mind. I’m not saying I have ever considered myself good, but I have always loved the power of words.

Many years ago, I found myself in a conversation where my “words” driven dream escaped my mouth. I shared my desire to write devotionals. This dream I had clutched in the secret place was now exposed to real people. Immediately, I was overcome with regret. Doubt coursed through my veins, and I imagined the thoughts my fellow conversationalists must have been entertaining. At the time it felt real, now I can call it what it was…fear.

Fast forward ten years. I happened to land a guest post opportunity on a community blog I held in high regard. That blog post was an exciting opportunity, but it was a blip in the grand scheme of life. I had long moved on from that small victory in my heart and mind, until the day {over a year later} my husband asked me about an email he read in our shared account. As I read the email, tears began pooling in my eyes. It was an opportunity that dreams are made of–to contribute a few pieces of my writing for a devotional that would actually be published!!!!

My yes was immediate. I didn’t wait for fear to choke out the dream, and in EIGHT short days, A Moment to Breathe {a 365-day devotional} releases to the world. My five pages might not mean much to the thousands of published writers around the globe, but they mean everything to me. They embody a dream I was always afraid to admit.

I’m not sure if you’ve shelved a dream, or drifted into the land of black and white, but can I encourage you today? We are never too old to dream. Listen, fear is a jerk and robs us of a lot of joy. What if we fight back today? Is there a dream you need to resurrect and pursue?

In a million years, I never imagined this would actually happen. That’s the problem…when we fail to imagine/dream/hope, the vivid colors of life are dulled.

Wishing you a day filled with the kind of dreaming that busts through glass ceilings of self-imposed limitations.

Dare to dream today, friend.

#MomentOfTruthMonday #DreamOn #amomenttobreathe