What does that mean, you ask? What do you care about my story, or my dream? And why would I ever think that they would be of interest to anyone else?
Because my life has been varied and interesting, in some aspects. Let’s take a look at some of the, well, I guess I would have to call ‘precious memories’ from my life.
I was born back in the 50’s. Yeah, I know, that makes me an old bat. But oh well, hopefully if you survive for any length of time, you’ll be one too! Anyway, life was a lot different then. Families tended to stick together, and really LIVED together. Blended or split families were not all that common. In the summers we took family vacations. And we really did enjoy them!
Us kids could run all over town with no worries. Our parents just wanted us to check in now and then, and for sure be home on time for supper. We rode our bikes all over town, and even a little way into the country. We went climbing around rocks and swinging from huge vines up in the woods at the end of our street. We didn’t think anything of wading into the creeks and catching, and quickly releasing, those ugly crawldads!
I can even remember playing outside in the street late at night in the summer. We often would play ‘Ghosts in the Graveyard’, in one of the kids larger yards, where we would hide and jump out at one another in the dark! Did we really ENJOY that?
My dad was a pretty well to do gentleman in our town. He was a good bit older than my mother. As a matter of fact, their courtship and evolving romance was an arranged situation. Yes, they still had those back then! He wooed mom and dined her and spoiled her rotten, and even though he was a lot older than her, she was happy to become his wife. Here’s the kicker…Daddy was 72 when I was born. And……I was his first child! There were two more to come, my brothers, and each of us was 9 years apart…two of us to the month! My Mom and Dad were wonderful Christian folks, and there was no denying our home welcomed Jesus.
So I went to school and grew and quickly realized I had no talents. Oh, I could sing a little. Mom used to take me to some of the local little churches to sing; she would play the piano and I would sing. The last time I can remember doing that, I, who was from a very traditional, ‘don’t cough while service is going on, no sneezing allowed, please don’t snore’ church, was shocked when, in the middle of my first verse of ‘The Lord is My Shepherd’ the preacher, who was sitting on one side of me, starting shouting, ‘Yes, Jesus!’ Once I had regained my composure, I continued on, and then just when I was getting to the part about ‘…all the days of my life’ the deacon or elder, who was sitting on the OTHER side of me, jumped up and starting carrying on about something to do with Jesus, and other names I can’t remember. Somehow I was able to finish, when all I wanted to do was RUN! I kinda think I told my mama ‘NO!’ next time she suggested I sing somewhere.
I sang in the junior choir, then I joined the senior choir. I sang in chorus in school. And ‘that’s all I got to say about that.’ Thanks, Forrest.
I was a Brownie, then I was a Girl Scout, up into the first year or two of high school. Then I just didn’t want to wear that ugly green dress anymore. I couldn’t make baskets, or sew anything, and I wasn’t all that good at clay products, so it just kind of lost interest for me. Now, though, I am glad I did all that. I learned more than I thought I did, and I can still dry my hands ‘like the birdies do’ when I go camping! And three years ago I got to go to NYC and tour the Girl Scout headquarters! They gave me a Girl Scout pin, which I am very proud of!
So…I was not athletic, though I played lots of sports in our neighborhood. I couldn’t do cartwheels or somersaults. I was not a daredevil, even if I was kind of a tomboy. I loved horses! Oh, how I loved them! And I still do. My favorite thing to do when I was in junior high and high school, was to go riding all day at a local stable with my best girlfriends. We had a great time! Horses are so very special. And when I was, and am, on one now, that is when I let the daredevil hiding out in me come out! Look out, outlaws and indians! I’ll ride you down!
When I got into high school, I did ok. I was social, and had lots of friends. I dated some and fell in love a lot! And hard! Had a broken heart a lot of the time, because the boys I fell for did not always fall for me. The ones who fell for me were always really nice and were like my brothers to me. They knew it too! But they were there for me, and even would comfort me when I got dumped. Now, that’s a good friend!
I found that I loved history, English, and shorthand. And even in grade school I realized I did like to write. Book reports, short stories, poems, and I even wrote songs. That interest kept popping back up throughout the years. But shorthand? How in the world? Well, let me assure you I did not love it at the beginning. I hated it! I called it chicken scratches and I was failing it. Then something happened…maybe because I love the written word. All of a sudden, like in an instant, my teacher, who was always encouraging me, because she believed in me, noticed that I was writing really fast. She was kinda amazed. I guess I was too, because I could actually read those chicken scratches! It started coming naturally, and I was very fast. So when state competitions came up, my teacher nominated me to represent our school in the shorthand competition. This was to be held at our state capital, and it was really an honor. I was excited, because I had never really excelled at ANYTHING! Except falling in love, of course. But when that Saturday morning of the event dawned, I was literally sick. My stomach was doing topsying and turvying like you would not believe. My hands shook and I was simply a whimpering mess. So my mom called the teacher and told her I could not go. Immediately I felt fine. But later in the day, and over the weekend, and even today, I regret my fear that kept me from going and doing my best, for my school, for my teacher who believed in me, for my parents, and most of all, for me.
I graduated, I got married, I had kids, and I’ve had good times and bad times. I eventually got divorced and remarried many years later, and am so very happy now. But the road has been hard, and filled with obstacles, and then with victories. We lost my wonderful Daddy when I was 24. He lived to see all three of my kids. And I should not say we ‘lost’ him; after all, how can you lose someone when you know exactly where they are?
Now I am finding something that I am good at…writing. God has given me a gift, and while I have a long way to go, it is my dream. I read a book by Bruce Wilkinson, who is my favorite male Christian writer. It was called The Dreamgiver. I read it as part of a Bible Study we did in church several years ago. That is what got me started, ready to go, with writing. But I truly did not step out and begin until I felt God pushing me, and boy does He know how to push! Now, I can’t seem to stop. I read the book several times over, and loaned it out to a lot of people so they could be encouraged to follow their dreams. Now I don’t know where it is. I am going to go and buy another copy, though, because I need to keep on track with pursuing my dream.
My Dreamgiver is my God. He has brought me through thus far. When I have been ready to give up and give in to failure, He has rallied my heart and my will, and I have continued on. As long as He directs my path and leads me in my writing, then I will keep on keeping on.
The Dreamgiver…this dream started when I was a little girl, who had no talents at all. I bet you have a dream too, and I pray you will let God lead you to its fulfillment. Then give it back to Him and see what He does with it!