i have a dream

if you know me in real life, or have been following this blog for some time now, you’re probably well-aware of one thing: i have a dream.
it’s a dream of red earth and blue sky, of toothy smiles and weathered hands; a dream of bright sun in my eyes and hair grease on my fingers while i loosen the girls’ plaits; a dream of dust on my lap from where little ones have crawled and settled themselves in.
it’s a dream of love beyond language barriers, acceptance beyond cultural differences, a bond that breaks down walls.
it’s a dream of joy that is wild and a heart that’s stretched wide, of working through the hard places, the grit of a life both unfair and unjust.
it’s a dream of defying the odds and refusing to let statistics have the final say.
it’s a dream of doing my part to build a kingdom on earth as it is in heaven, of a life lived in pursuit of the things of Jesus’ heart, of chasing after the presence of God that is waiting for me an ocean away.
it’s a dream for the children whom i’ve welcomed into my arms and my heart as my own, to see them grow up loved and valued and whole.
it’s a dream to be there through all of it, the triumphs and the failures, the successes and the tears. it’s a dream to laugh and love and pray and teach and see and feel and learn and doubt and live out this messy beautiful faith-walk, however imperfect it may be.

i have a dream.
and i am on my way
. i’m going to a “place with joy, tears, glory, grace and most of all, more of Jesus with every step i take.” (holley gerth)

so this one is for the dreamers, those of us with wide eyes and lofty vision, who are working at making their dreams reality. the road sometimes seems long, the way often narrow, but sure enough, we are on our way. with shaky hands and unsure steps, we keep walking. and people may question, as they often do when they don’t understand, but still we walk ahead.
we dream, and we walk, and we know–one day, we’ll get there. 

for c

i had the dream last night—
you know, the one in which i can never quite tell
if i’m actually dreaming at all.

there were whispered names
and half-hidden faces,
but the blackbirds in the treetops wouldn’t sing to us;
they’d only nod their heads in approval
and talk quietly amongst themselves.

we danced,
and it was harvest time,
and i twirled around in my white dress,
a dark green ribbon in my long hair. 
you were smiling, always smiling,
warm and sturdy
and proud.

the women who have loved you
long before they met you
and read their poetry,
while the men 
who have loved me
spoke solemn words of truth into our souls.

it was a celebration
amongst the oak trees and garden beds,
and we laughed, you and i;
we laughed
and loved

and i hated that i had to wake up.