In which He calls me Dreamer

I am waking up

the dreamer within me

It is a bit frightening

My dreams are many

Messy and scattered

Hopelessly hopeful

Unrealistically wild

Utterly dear

Safer kept under wraps

Tucked away

To perhaps, by happenstance

someday

Come true


When I was young

I blew on dandelions

I spoke to first stars

And I pulled my half of a wishbone

Dreams are deeply inside of us

Deeply made

And deeply held

Deeply secret

For reasons

(we believe)

of necessary safety


I fear my dreams to be

Silly

Lacking practicality

Or relation to my calling

My duties in life

I forget

(silly me)

Who created dreams

The Original Dreamer

Who, in a moment of true whimsy

Dreamed up Me


If I am a servant of God

I must wait for His command

“go back to Africa”

That would be good news

And yet the waiting is hard

The unexpectedness of how long

A command might take

To appear

To me, blindly waiting

In the dark


But if I am a friend of God

(and He calls me Friend)

Then I do not sit, waiting

For command to go

Instead I join my dreams

To all I know of His heart

And I keep moving forward

Partnering with Him

In this bold wish-life of big imaginings

I dream eternal


This is what it is

To obey such a Friend

And we can do this together

This redeeming of Dreams

blowing Breath of Life

On the fresh dandelions

Of each others hearts

To be each others

Constant reminder

That all good things

Are His ideas first

And that His ideas for us

Are all good things


Dreams are coming true

The best ones, the very best

He blows

We bend

Wishes scatter on wind

Finding places to nest

After their wild flight

And Hearts wake

This is what we hardly dare

To imagine

And yet

He’s True

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