This weekend was filled with refreshments which have tumbled well into my week.
It began with a prayer, followed by a decision and a road-trip. Alone, singing at the top of my lungs and experimenting with tones, harmony, and rhythm, my past few weeks of frustration and befuddlement began to unwind, and my heart began to express gratitude to my God and whisper my hopes in the creases of his robes. My Daddy keeps drawing me near.
With visits to friends, bike rides across town, and the possibilities of new adventures at hand, I rested there, breathing in all the life I could from those around me by giving them all the life I could from within me. This isn’t strange. I’ve been taught it is best to give. I’ve been taught it is best to bless especially when it seems I am lacking. I have been taught to pour out. So this is what I did in my own little, quirky manner. A couple onions here, some friendship potatoes there, and the first cup of Jamba Juice to those friends over there! My body feels alive when I give.
Of course, the favor of the Lord was upon me, as well. Without expectations (or much faith, to be honest), I asked of the Lord for a bus ride, and a bus ride he did provide! A gift from the driver and relief to my tired legs. Then, there were the friends of yore, some of whom I have not interacted with since the Honor Academy and some whose presence seemed to elevate my heart. (i.e. Nikki & Navenah R., Katelyn S., and Kerry B.) The remainder, my dear friends, who my heart longs to have fellowship with no matter how much time has passed, had the greatest embrace for me this weekend. They cooked, they took me out, they shared and listened, despite much cost to themselves. I am grateful for each of them!
But now comes the difficult encounter. ‘Which one?’ You ask, ‘you share your struggles like a sailor dispatches the nautical variants of the wind! Today, is it school or work? Home or money? From whence hast the winds turned?’
My response is one of solace, I hope you will understand:
When a dream nestles in one’s heart, it can be a great medicine to see it come into fruition. Yes, I am talking about dreams, again…those ideas which fester or crust, either from the Lord or from the world, yet never hidden from him or his eyes, or to compress the vision of him in my own. Dreams.
It has long been said, that hope deferred makes the heart sick. I tell you, this is true. And in this way, we are one and the same. Mothers who surrender their bodies, their prime years, their ambitions to learn, to travel, to listen uninterrupted to the friends of their youth are indeed made of the same stuff and the same hope as those who surrender their yearnings for pregnancy, a strong embrace in the cold of the night, the baby names which they have known since youth, and the solidarity of purpose in nurturing a family. Who is to say which dream is more noble? Who can make jokes of the woman who cries out to God for children, a family? Who can judge a woman of great determination who desires to change the world in a manner eccentrically pronounced? Who is to decipher whether Leah or Deborah was more effective? Who can decide whether the virgin Mary or Anna the prophet were more important? Each woman did what was purposed in her heart to do. Each woman made history and compelled the heart of God.
It is naught but pride to judge whether one role is more essential than the other, when it is the Lord who sees fit to send one woman one way and another woman the other. Either dream is real. Either dream may become fulfilled. Either dream may be deferred. So, again, I petition, who is to say?
All questions and women heretofore presented, are simply in support of this idea: all women, despite various dreams, hopes, and visions may be called upon to elicit strength to those of another season. All women, whether big or small, north or south, loving or love-less, hope-fulfilled or hope-deferred, vision clear or vision clouded, pregnant or not, in school or in the kitchen, with a husband or never-been-kissed, have a voice. Make space in your life to listen.
Labor day weekend was an unexpected adventure filled with the lovely blessing of friendship. I am glad God has given me the grace to hear.
Don’t dismiss your friend when she is living your dream.
…You could very well be living hers.