Dream Keeper

When my daughter was three years old, I wrote the following:

Countless times I’ve commented that I love little girls at Nadia’s age—I love their imagination and dreaminess. The last couple of days have found me visiting these thoughts once again. Nadia’s name means hope—and she lives up to it. She has the kind of hope that stares opposition boldly in the face. She wears it with liveliness and playfulness, and at times with fierce determination. And she dreams—wonderful little girl dreams.

Today we played catch and soccer out in the grass behind our apartment—Noah and I in proper attire, and Nadia in her princess dress. The princess played, too, but would stop every so often to dance her ballerina dance and beg an audience. Then she would tell me to dance as well.

What happens to the knight and the princess when they’ve grown?  The brokenness of our world has a way of smothering the glow of life inside of us until it’s all but lost.  I remember being that girl in twirling skirt, singing my made-up little girl songs.  Dreaming big dreams.  Then dreams were replaced with wounds and guilt, and dreams gave way to resignation to what life is.  Because it’s not safe to dream.  Hoping leads to disappointment. 

How can dreams survive when faced with the harsh reality of a world that lies, cheats, violates,  steals, and destroys?  How does hope continue when faced with rejection and disillusionment?  When "anything is possible" is met with the unforgiving face of impossibility?

Maybe what life appears to be isn’t actually the truth.

We are more than conquerors through Christ Jesus.  (Romans 8:37)

In this world we will have troubles, but Jesus says “But take heart! I have overcome this world.” (John 16:33)

God will never leave us or forsake us.  (Hebrews 13:5) 

God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and love and a sound mind.  (II Timothy 1:7)

He works all things together for the good of those who love Him and are called according to His purpose. (Romans 8:28)

We are joint heirs with Christ--sons and daughters of the living God. (Romans 8:16-17)

The voices of this world drown out the Truth of God’s Voice.  In order to survive the onslaught against our hearts and live the hope we are called to, we must cling to God’s Truth above every other voice.  It must be our lifeline.  We must constantly weigh the messages from others and in our own minds against the Truth of God’s word.  What does God say about me?

I am still that little girl in twirling skirt, longing to right the injustices of the world and see hope prevail.  I long for Christ redemption to be complete in this world.  I still fight to dream, to hope against all hope.  And I am deeply loved by a more-than-capable God.  Everything else is just details.

Last night as we lay down to sleep we prayed and listened to God. Nadia, who often says that God told her something about toys or school, said these words, “I’ll keep your dreams…come true. I’ll keep you safe.” Yes, my dear Nadia, God does hold our dreams in His hands, and you can trust Him to keep them and your heart safe.

Our God is a dream keeper.  He is the one that gives us dreams.  He whispers them in our ear; plants the seed of hope in our heart.  May we all dream as wildly and as confidently as children, trusting in a God "who gives life to the dead and calls those things which do not exist as though they did." (Romans 4:17)

The Deception

It's Easter.  The girls are dressing and getting their hair curled. I reach for my hair dryer to straighten out mine and realize the irony of it all--blowing hair straight only to curl it again in less-natural curls.  Trading my God-given curls my own daughters long to have. 

I think of my brown-eyed, brunette daughters wishing for golden locks, while my blue-eyed blond daughter covets the formers’ dark tresses. I remember my own childhood longing to look and be like someone else.  We are experts at disvaluing our own beauty and talents.  What we have is not enough.  It’s the same lie man has fallen for time and time again.  God is holding out on us.

“Love does not want what belongs to others.”

The Scripture from Corinthians read at our dining room table just last night echos in my mind.

And then the lie goes deeper.  Who we are is not enough—not pretty enough, not smart enough, not funny enough, not kind enough, not brave enough, not lovable enough.  We are hopeless failures.

On the surface this lie appears to be a lack of self-confidence—a bought of self-depreciation that can be solved with a self pep-talk or the like.  Yet this lie goes deeper.  It is a rejection of the God who created us.  It is an unwillingness to trust our Maker with who He has created us to be.

For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do. (Ephesians 2:10)

I pause and return the hair dryer to the drawer.  Today I choose to embrace the curls God’s given me—to be comfortable in my own skin. I open my hands to let go of the striving to be like someone else and to be at peace in who God has created me to be.


A mere two days passed.  


That voice whispered in my ear again.  The one that says I'm not enough and no one likes me.  That feeling of being on the outside of the circle slithered its way into my heart—such an old familiar self-loathing codependent friend.

I know better than to listen, but struggle to overcome the thoughts.   These demons have haunted me since I was a child.  I remember thinking in elementary school that everyone liked my best friend and not me.  When I finally confessed my fears to her one day, she responded that she thought everyone liked me and not her.   The house of cards fell that day, but the seed of deception still remains.  It creeps in like a weed, and I have to root it out again and again.

These lies are barely affected by recalling mere facts such as the realization that just last week I had a girls night with some friends.  Or that I just spent Easter with all my family.  Or that my husband and kids love me dearly.  Nor does reciting a list of friends help.

In the midst of my battle the scripture flashed in the back of my mind again.

Love does not want what belongs to others. 

Oh, but I don’t want what belongs to others.  They can keep their cars and houses and clothes.  I don’t care about all of that.  I just envy their giftings.  And their friendships.  And their…  ouch.

 And then the Father gently questions,

“What if you really are alone and unloved by others?  Am I enough for you?”

Oh. Ummm, good question.

“Why are you looking for others approval to fill you?” 

I don’t have an answer.  At least not a good one.

And then He reminds me—again—that He has created me to be me and no one else.  He tells me that He needs me to use the gifts that He has given me because that’s my part to play.  He asks me if I trust Him with the cup He has given me—if I trust Him with my story.

The danger in the lies is that my reaction is to want to run and hide. To bury what I’ve been given for fear of hurt and rejection.  It seems easier to be a carbon copy or two-dimensional rather than risk going deep.  Like the man of the parable who buried his talents, I too want to shrink back in fear, and bury my gifts deep in the sand.

And there it is. The sin of self-preservation.  When Jesus said whoever wants to follow me should deny himself and pick up his cross. 

So denying myself looks like taking my eyes off myself and watching Jesus, listening to what the Father’s story is for me.  It means thinking about reaching out to others instead of worrying what they think of me.  It means I trust God with His timing and don’t become anxious when it’s not the same as others.  I must shift my focus from myself and allow God to tell me my story.