Tag Archives: dreams



Do you remember The Purpose Driven Life book? Many, many years ago, I belonged to a study group that gathered to discuss it. Our group consisted of multi-aged men and women. One night, a seventy-year-old man said that he was still looking for his purpose in life. Not that he hadn’t felt he’d already fulfilled other purposes along the way, but at his age, he wanted to know what God needed from him now. I was floored because in my young mind I sort of believed that he’d done it all and it was ‘happy retirement’ time. I’ve never forgotten him or his statement.

Ever since then, I’ve been more aware of my place in this world. God didn’t give me a handwritten note during the study directing me towards what I was supposed to do with my life, but that class began the process of letting Him lead me where I’m supposed to go.

Over the years, I’ve balked. I’ve cried when I was tired and lost. I’ve begged, repeatedly, for him to send a thunderbolt down with explicit instructions. I’ve yearned for dreams that always seemed just a smidgen out of reach.

And honestly, at 47, I’d almost given up on one of my dreams. For years, I’d dreamed of going back to school and picking up my library certification, but you know…life’s busy, I’ve got two kids in college, I’m too old to go back to school…the excuses were boundless.

But still I prayed and I asked God to put me where He wanted me, to use me where He saw fit. And with great surprise on my part, He stuck His finger in the waters surrounding my life. The ripples started, ripples that not only affected my life but many other people around me. And doors opened, others closed, and here I am.

I’m 47, a college student again (21 years after I got my Master’s degree), a new librarian, and guys, I’m so excited! I haven’t felt this sort of giddy-can’t-wait feeling in a long time.

(We’ll touch base in a month when I’m in way over my head with work and two college classes. I may be begging for mercy! Ha!)

I sure am thankful for God’s hand in my life, and He reminds me often that His time-table does not match my schedule. And even though I usually love calm waters, I’m so thankful for the ripples in my little pond.


I’ve been busy in the library letting my creative juices flow. Bill and Hunter helped me make this. I’m kind of in love with it!


I’ve painted clouds and added some window decorations. Notice to short people – you will get a crick in your neck if you reach up for way too long.


This isn’t quite finished but it’s close. Hunter and Kristie saved me on this project. I’m sort of in love with this, too. I’m sort of in love with the whole room!

Dreams Are Weird


So last night I had the strangest dream. I was in the White House…not sure why or how…and I was writing intently. Type, type, type. This man moved into the room beside me and sat across a narrow aisle. I looked over and it was Donald Trump. His shoulders were slumped and he seemed weary and tired. I knew who he was immediately, and I finally asked him why he was up in the middle of the night. He shrugged and then asked me why I was doing the same. I told him I could only find time to write when I was away from children. We began to talk, not sure about what, and in the next blink of the dream, we were sitting together in a big chair, shoulders touching. Sitting the way two small children would do in a classroom while reading books…innocently and without a care.

This man was grown but felt needy…he was needing a calm time in the middle of a harried world.

And then we wanted coffee, he regular and me decaf, and I woke up.

Ugh…unfinished dreams! I think if I’d stayed asleep just a little longer I would have gotten up the nerve to tell him in my best teacher voice to stop tweeting immediately, and too, maybe I would have volunteered to take Mrs. Grizzly Bear’s place as nominee for Secretary of Education.

It’s a shame he wasn’t having the same dream as me.

Here’s what I keep remembering from that dream though: this person is a human being. He’s far from perfect, as we all are.

He’s living behind this big bravado, which is a world he created for himself, but he’s just a man. He’s not God, and we all need to be praying for him since he is the leader of this country.

He felt vulnerable. He is whether he acts like it or not. He is not the ruler of the universe or my life…nor is he yours. Only one being holds that position, and when I focus on that, then this change in politics becomes much less scary (and mind you, I would have been just as worried about the change if Hillary had been elected).

God bless you, Mr. Trump, and may God guide every decision you make.

And P.S. – It was mighty strange dreaming about you, DJT. I’m taking it as a sign of too much media. I’ll now return to my books and hide away from you for a while.



Dreams and Such


**For those of you who don’t know (and may not even really care), here’s an addition to my last post:

Addendum!! My wonderful, brilliant, incredible, gifted, did I say wonderful, husband came home after a 12 hour day and found my lost pages!!! Even he doesn’t know how they ended up where they were but at this point, I’m too elated to care! I immediately took him to Sonic and bought him a sundae!!


I had the best and strangest dream last night.  I was in town, I believe, and irritated.  Not sure by whom or what, but then I walked up on this man.  His hair was curly, his face weathered.  I gasped and the few people with me asked what was wrong.  I said, “Don’t you know who this is?  He’s Robert Plant!”  The man smiled at me, happy that I recognized him and he gripped my hand.  Then he began to sing “All of My Love” to me.  In my dream, the song was crystal clear, the warmth of his hand so very real, and the way he made me feel so much better was unbelievable.  I woke up smiling…his words slipping through my head.

Told you it was strange but it was so cool.  The Robert Plant sang to me.  The Robert Plant who is too cool for school…well, way too cool for me anyway.  (For you non-classic rock lovers, he was the lead singer of Led Zeppelin.)  In his honor, here’s a little video.

And for my very own love…the savior of missing documents, the house mechanic, accountant and electronic wizard, you’re way cooler than even Robert Plant, just so you know!



“When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left, and could say, ” I used everything you gave me.”

Erma Bombeck

That quote has pulsed through my mind for two weeks now.  I read it in the book One Month to Live by Kerry and Chris Shook.  The words hit me so profoundly.  When my time comes, will I be able to say that I have used my talents, or have they been idling in the back of my mind untouched?  (This book is about way more than untouched talents and a very good read, by the way.)

I am blessed to attend a once a week gathering with a group of diverse women who aren’t afraid to ask the hard questions.  They talk about topics most casual acquaintances would never discuss.  Topics that make you ask yourself the hard questions.  What if I only had one month to live?  What if I’ve done nothing but squander time?

In our group, we have two wanna-be writers, a banker who runs marathons and has found a passion in teaching, a dental hygienist who realized her real passion isn’t cleaning teeth but engaging with her patients, a few retirees who have more spark and life than people half their ages, and mothers…lots of mothers.

We talk about our dreams, our fears, our struggles with raising actual people.  For some it’s very difficult to voice their dreams aloud.  And for one kind woman, she sheepishly admitted, “I must have missed the line for dreams.  I’ve never really had one.”  (But this woman has talents…talents she uses every day in the work force, talents she uses in the church and with people around her.  Maybe she’s just never thought of them as a passion…)

It’s no secret that I have two passions.  One passion is children, the other is writing.  The first passion is aging.  It has become a little tarnished with time, and definitely banged up over the years.  But even still, even as the powers that be are changing everything I once knew about teaching, I still love the children.  My other passion never stops whispering to me…even when I’m at work surrounded by twenty little bodies.

Writing was an urge given to me.  I did not earn it or bargain for it.  I did not expect it.  It showed up in my early thirties and since that time has devoured a large part of my soul.  Do I consider it a talent?  I don’t know.  But I know this…if and when the time comes for me to say that yes, I’ve used my talents, I want to be able to say it.  I’ve given 24 years of my life to teaching, and I want to be able to say that I gave writing my all as well.

So how do I do this?  Our group discusses this often.  How do we find the time to do it all?  I spend 40 hours a week at work then what feels like another 40 taking care of the house, food, etc.  What time does that leave for writing?  Sometimes, very little.

My challenge is to find the time to write more.  And that is my challenge to you.  What are your talents?  What are your dreams?  Is it finally being able to be a stay at home mom?  Is it a passion for cooking (and will you share just a smidgen of that with me)?  Is it a need to take care of others?  Whatever it is, I challenge you to embrace it as I do the same.  Maybe we can find our way there together.