when dreams fail.

Dreaming big. It's something I'm passionate about. Trusting God for dreams. Stepping out in faith and fearlessly pursuing your passion, and bravely chasing after those things you were made to do, the things that make your heart beat and a sense of fulfillment to settle on your soul. Dreaming big and pursuing those dreams even if people laugh and you and no one understands. I believe God plants dreams in our hearts and asks us to take steps of faith and work to see those dreams bloom, and come true. This is why I love The Kite Project. I've mentioned it before. My dear friend Rae leads it and shepherds dreamers as they take one brave footstep after another, pointing us to the Lord the whole time. I truly encourage you, if you have a dream waiting to be born in your life - if you need a support group of cheer leaders who are chasing, just like you, then check out Rae's blog and read more. I've been a part of the Project for 2 seasons now and it has literally changed my life. It's the reason I am writing my book. And part of the reason this blog exists in the form it is today. 

I am writing a few words about dreaming today, about the failure of dreams. I pray you enjoy and are somehow encouraged by some part of the sentiments I share - whether you are in the Kite Project or not. We all dream. We've all experienced failure and loss. May these words comfort, encourage and give you hope. 


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You've tucked it away in your heart. It's been there for as long as you can remember. That dream. The seeds were planted years ago, in childhood. You never told anyone about the dream. Until one day when your heart filled with fearlessness and you took a big leap, jumping into the pursuit of your big, crazy dream. 

And oh how hard you worked. Hours of free time, spent on the pursuit. Your extra resources put toward the dream. Your energy invest in the chasing. And most costly, your heart... so intricately tied to and involved in the dream, the passion for seeing the dream come true fills you. You fight for the dream. Years pass, and you keep climbing the mountain of the dream. Obstacles got in the way, you overcame. Disappointments threatened the dream, you persevered. The dream, it's in sight. It's so close you can almost taste it. 

But one day, the dream is dashed. Hope is deflated. Circumstances clash. Life collides with the dream. You fall. You make a mis-step. A mistake is made. Your foot is caught, and you fall. And the dream, oh the precious dream - the one you've sacrificed for, fought for, 
...slips ever so slowly through your fingers, and it is gone. It is broken. It's out of reach.
And you are left, reeling. You try to pick up the pieces, but somehow, the original dream, the way you pictured it, the ideal image - it is lost forever. And your heart goes down, down, down. Aching, you weep for the loss of the dream that was so close...yet so far. You grieve for the dream like a widow who lost her Sailor at sea, like a woman who lost the love of her life to death. The dream has failed, the hope has died. Confused and mourning, you stand in the messiness of it's aftermath and look at the pieces of your once-blooming dream. Now broken and lying on the floor. Loss. Failure. Heartache. Pain.

I remember how different the trees looked that hot July day. Charred, black. Plants stripped of life. Blackened soil. Smoldering leaves. The fire came within ten feet of my family's home, ripping through and charring the trees and hills. Thankfully, the house was spared. But the land all around... it looked like the backside of the moon. Black and leveled. I was 17 and my family's home was just barely spared in a forest fire. I remember how sad we felt. Thankful the house was okay, but devastated over the loss of our beautiful land...all the trees, all the grass and wildlife. And then, I remember how Dad smiled as our family stood together, looking over the smoky blackness. And he said, "Don't worry. This is a natural process. Wildfires are part of the eco-system of the forest. Some of the plants and trees cannot release their seeds unless the plant is burned. Soon, new life will grow. It will be green again."

Beauty for ashes.

Today, years later, Dad was right. The once-burned plants and trees bloomed again. Seeds took root and grew afresh. It will never be the same. Still charred tree trunks betray the green blooms - the scars are still there. We still remember the fire. But in time, the ashes washed away in the rain, Spring came again, and new growth happened. The land is beautiful as ever now, and more beautiful to me... because I know what it fought through. The struggle is part of the story, the fire did not win. It's now more beautiful than before because there is a story.

Friend, when dreams fail, bravely pick up the pieces and give them to God - He can take the broken and make it into something beautiful. 




"...our God,
to comfort all who mourn,
    and provide for those who grieve in Zionβ€”
to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes,
the oil of joy instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.
They will be called oaks of righteousness  a planting of the Lord
    for the display of his splendor."
-Isaiah 61:1-3 

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For The Kite Project  ladies: the linky tool isn't working
 for me tonight so leave your blog link in the comments below.)