Dreams Really Do Come True

I wrote my first novel when I was 11 years old. That novel was 300+ pages, written in a 5-subject notebook using my favorite pen. It was 1983, a time before personal computers. We owned a typewriter, but there was just something about the feel of paper brushing the side of my hand and a pen -- a fine-tip Papermate -- grasped firmly between my thumb, forefinger, and middle finger that made it feel like home.

I created worlds with two simple objects: Pen and paper. Writing afforded me a sense of power and security that my real life did not.

You could tell I was a prolific writer because the left side of my middle finger was permanently dented and stained with ink that would not wash off. Sometimes, I would get sores which turned into calluses on that finger when I was most engaged in my work. The more I wanted to escape the life I was living, the more I dove into writing about characters who had the life I wanted to live.

In 1991, I took a college composition course at the local community college. My professor, Dr. Lovelace, asked me to talk to him after class one day. A few days earlier, I had submitted a writing assignment. It was supposed to be a journal, but I didn't want to write about myself. I wanted to write stories about other people, so that's what I did instead. I remember Dr. Lovelace leaning against his desk as he studied me, saying, "Is the story you wrote true?"

Shrugging, I admitted, "No, sir. It's not. I made it up."

I expected him to scold me for not following instructions and notify me that I had earned a zero on the assignment. Dr. Lovelace said to me, "You are a skilled writer. Have you considered pursuing a career in writing?"

My heart felt like it was going to explode. He was speaking my language. Had I ever considered pursuing a career as a writer? Ha! Every day of my life since I was a little girl, I dreamed of writing books that were published and spending my days spinning stories that people loved to read. Sadly, by eighteen, cynicism had set in and I pushed my dreams away and replaced them with what was logical ... What is socially acceptable amongst the sophisticated people in the world.

I remember telling Dr. Lovelace that being a writer wouldn't pay the bills, to which he replied, "You are very talented, but you don't want to put in the hard work so you won't even try, will you? You're lazy. "

His candor took me by surprise. In equal parts, those words hurt and angered me. The truth is, I grew up with very little and I didn't want to be poor anymore. It's not that I wasn't willing to work hard at it. Goodness, I wrote every day so I was already putting the work in. No, it was because I didn't believe I could be successful at it. The message I had received throughout my teen years was that I was worthless. I was no good. School administration acknowledged my intelligence, but also capitulated that kids in my socioeconomic standing rarely go anywhere in life. So, they didn't encourage me to reach for more. They didn't have to say anything; their actions told me everything I needed to know. I wasn't worth the effort.

At eighteen, I stuffed my dreams into the furthest corner in the back of the closet in pursuit of making money. I liked learning new skills, so I learned everything I could, and the more I learned, the higher I went in my career. I eventually earned a bachelor's degree and then went on to pursue two master's degrees. But, no matter how far I went or how much money I made, I was not satisfied. Eventually, the career failed me and when it abruptly ended, the money went away along with it, too.

I was totally and completely lost. I was forty-four years old and I didn't know what to do. I cried out to God on New Year's Eve day in 2018 and asked Him to give me direction. In my desperation, the only word I heard was "WRITE".

I started a blog and, at first, the following was fairly strong, but within a few months, the viewership dropped significantly. I thought I had gotten it wrong. Discouraged, I stopped writing. I shut the blog site down and sunk deeper in despair. Directionless.

It was January 2021 when I had gotten to a point that I could take no more. I made a date with God to meet Him at a remote place where we could spend time together in the nature He created. I found an adorable cottage amongst the mountains and the co-owner of the property also offered life coaching sessions. So, I went all in and booked the cottage for two nights with a session with the life coach. You can read about the experience in Chapter 38 of my novel, Picking Up the Pieces. It was there that God started me on the journey of rediscovering the dreams of my youth.

Here I am forty years later and I just published my first book. Those dreams, long buried and forgotten for a time, have come to fruition. Dreams are not just for the young, but they are for everyone no matter how old we are. The only one who truly limits us is ourselves. I don't know about you, but I'm tired of counting myself out. I'm taking time not just to dream, but to do something about those dreams!

Is it a smooth road to dream actualization? No! There are lots of twists and turns. I still battle significant self-doubt. In August 2023, just two months away from publishing my novel, I almost decided to not move forward with it. Putting yourself out there is a frightening thing. It makes you vulnerable and I feared the criticism. I knew it would come and doubted I could withstand it. But, in the middle of the night, God woke me from my slumber.

On August 13 at 11:44 p.m., He told me, "I have created you to do this." At first, my mind dismissed it as my own thoughts that I was trying to spiritualize, but as I attempted to go back to sleep, that sentence kept repeating. Over and over again, getting louder and louder in my head as the phrase was stuck on replay. It wasn't until I accepted this as a word from the Lord, that it stopped. It was such a significant moment, that I documented it in the Notes app on my phone. I have a lot of notes on my phone from God's middle-of-the-night messages over the past year. I sometimes lament the timing of these messages, but have come to understand that I usually hear Him when my mind is quiet and the only time my mind is truly quiet is when I'm sleeping.

What dreams do you have that you have stuffed in the back of the closet long ago? What self-limiting thoughts have you agreed to that has prevented you from reaching for what you are destined for? It's never too late to reach into that closet, grasp that dream, and dust it off. What does it hurt to explore the possibility? I don't know about you, when my time is up, I want to know that I have left no stone unturned and that I did my best to partner with God to reach my full potential.

Friends, dreams do come true. That is a fact.

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Psalm 37:4 (NLT): Take delight in the LORD, and he will give you your heart’s desires.

Ephesian 3:20 (AMP): Now to Him who is able to [carry out His purpose and] do superabundantly more than all that we dare ask or think [infinitely beyond our greatest prayers, hopes, or dreams], according to His power that is at work within us.