cross, bend, and mix

I love driving. A full tank of gas and a good song. I have no inhibition in my car. Everything bottled up erupts. I sing and dance and laugh and cry. And dream. Today I dreamed of where I’d like to go. And how I'll turn out. And heaven. I can not wait to get there and to see His face. I think that’s when I’ll really understand what love is. When I see the way He looks at me. I picture myself drowning and flying and falling all at once. Getting lost in it, losing myself in it. Or maybe I'll finally find myself.

Dreams happen when I think with my heart instead of my mind. When I let my heart take over for a little while.

My heart isn’t always wise. Or reasonable. And dreams don’t always happen or work out. Sometimes the dreams I dream aren’t mine. They belong to someone else. And every once in a while I choose a different dream, or change the one I had. I rearrange the middle, toss out the end.

But just because we take ourselves out of our dreams, it doesn't mean that our dreams stop. Someone else comes along and takes what was ours and makes it theirs. That's hard to watch.

It’s hard to not get caught up in that. Feeling left behind, left out of your dream. The dream that you wanted to love, but couldn't. And I think the hardest part of it all is not stopping. Being brave enough to create fresh dreams and to chase new hopes. To change directions and passions. To believe that He gives as well as takes. That when He takes, it’s because of His love. And that sometimes we have to wait a while until we’re ready, until we can handle more.

Sometimes I feel so far away from who I thought I would be and where I thought I would go. And a tiny part of me wonders if it was really the dream that was wrong or if it was me. If I just chose the easy way out, or if I really chose the right thing. If I could be something more somewhere else. Or if it really doesn't matter where you are. As long as you understand that He's there. Sometimes it's hard to just let. It. Go.

He made us to dream, made us with dreams. To venture out. To live recklessly. To cross lines and bend norms and mix black with white. I think we aren’t supposed to see the same as we used to. Life should sound, taste, feel different. And our dreams should be bigger. Our dreams should become His.

Maybe our dreams have little parts of heaven in them. I think they’re the language of our hearts. Dreams. And maybe prayers are whispered dreams, dreams with words.