Monday morning.Monday morning has a particular ache, like an arthritic hip before a storm, or a fifty-year old knee after a pickup game with a bunch of guys in their thirties.
It comes from straining our heart muscles to push aside our dreams and the ideas we had about what our life would look like so we can face what is.
Monday morning is the commute to work.
The hasty breakfast and careless good-byes.
The dog vomit on the carpet no one has time to clean so it’s mom’s job – again – even though mom’s got a full-plate of babies and toddlers and she’s already clocked in hours before the rest of the household saw daylight.
It’s bills to pay, bread on the table, mouths to feed, and vocation.
It’s serious as a straight-jacket, I mean, a suit jacket. Yeah, that’s what I mean.
Tuesday morning isn’t much different except that no one whines on Tuesday.
Tuesday we’re in full-on work mode.
Our schedule is packed, we’ve hit our stride, there’s not a moment to glance in a mirror nevermind to reflect on hopes and dreams set so long on the backburner we don’t even lift the lid on them anymore.
Tuesday is the argument about whose turn it is to clean up after dinner.
The note from the teacher, a rumor about cutbacks at work, and in-laws on the phone with news of a medical test that showed a spot but please don’t anyone worry about us, we’re fine.
On Wednesday night, there’s a weekly prayer meeting scheduled at church but it’s also Open House, soccer practice, and the night before the big presentation plus no one did laundry on the week-end so someone has to do it even though that someone does everything else around here.
Then Thursday zips by so quickly no one can recall exactly what we did that day except there was an email from school about money for a field trip and additional art supplies and the good car’s making a weird sound.
Friday.
On Friday, the hot water heater dies, the spot on the x-ray seems to be something and maybe someone should come by to talk to your father, the rumors ratchet up at work so maybe there’s a reason to tweak the resume over the week-end, and have you noticed that the baby seems to favor her right leg – is that normal?
Saturday is errands, chores, the birthday party for the kid with the wealthy parents, dinner with Mom and Dad to hear the medical details, and petty bickering that eats away the few moments we might have had to remember why we chose to team up for life before we fall asleep during the movie we’ve had for a month now and really should watch.
Then Sunday, a man stands up front at church and we try to be like Teflon in case his message suggests we should be doing more because how can we?
And we hear that God loves us but what we’re really wondering is if He likes us anymore.
Then there’s a moment on Sunday afternoon when the baby’s napping, the kids are in the leaves laughing, we’re on the porch steps and for a minute we remember that we used to be people with dreams.
Dreams. Magnificent dreams. Individual dreams. Dreams that defined us and made us want to move forward into another week because we were confident it would be full of opportunity and adventure.
But we can’t imagine that God is still interested in our dreams.
That’s probably our fault. If we’d been better people, maybe, but we know what we did and that means we should just be grateful for what we have, right?
Plus, we’ve heard God’s completely sold on responsibility and duty so we must be pretty tight with Him because we’re hip deep in that. We’re doing what needs to get done. We’re focused. We’re obedient. We color inside the lines and it ain’t all we hoped for but it’s fine. Really, it’s fine.
But, something about the rich red and brilliant orange of the leaves sparks a thought deep in our imagination and our painting hand twitches involuntarily feeling a brush that isn’t there, like an amputee sensing an itch on a missing leg.
Our middle child laughs like a crystal waterfall and we wonder if anyone else heard a sound like our old guitar playing a chord all by itself from the back corner of the attic.
A car backfires as it passes and we flash on that idea we had for volunteering to repair the cars of single moms and needy families for free.
And for a moment, the veil between us and the kingdom of God seems to lift.
We hear a whisper that says our dreams aren’t selfish or indulgent, they’re part of His design, part of the BIG plan, part of following Him, part of losing our lives and dying to ourselves and picking up our cross,
and we wonder if it could be true that even our dreams are part of this narrow road adventure
and we hold our breath in that moment because it seems impossible that we heard what we heard.
In that moment, just before the baby wakes and the middle child hits the older one with the rake and the phone rings, we have a decision to make.
Because this is all good but maybe good is getting in the way of the best.
Maybe we were meant for so much more.
And maybe it’s not about doing more but about doing it differently. About saying no to some things and yes to the voice of God that whispers within us that the dream we have is from Him
as impossible as it seems.
Not about coloring inside the lines but about melting crayons on the sidewalk or shooting them like rockets into the neighbor’s yard
and not about just raising our children but about showing them what it looks like to live inside the freedom Jesus spilled blood to provide.
We have a decision to make –
Do we settle for the good
or follow Him all the way even if it means taking a risk on our dreams?
If you heard His voice on Sunday, why not risk inviting Him in to the rest of your week . . . even into your dreams.
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oooh, this one resonates deep… maybe too deep and I flinch… even as my finger itches to hit the share button so that all the others I know and love who this will also resonate with can flinch with me. You always give me more to think about. And that’s a good thing. A God thing. Thank you.
Share away and then decide that that dream God has given you is worth investing time and energy in. I like your line “that’s a good thing. A God thing.”
God was at work in this post (as usual :). I was questioning God about a dream this morning, seeking Gods will about continuing to pursue or letting it go. Then I open up this post and BAM! This is not the first time I have questioned or the first time God has given me a bold, definitive answer. When will I learn? Thank you so much for sharing your faith. Angie