Dream on.

So I think in order to keep my pledge, it is time that I write a new entry.

I'm sitting here trying to think of what to say and nothing is coming. It's not for lack of thoughts, on the contrary it's because there are far too many. You know that feeling that makes you grab at the sides of your head in an effort to keep it from exploding? -yeah I'm there. At this point I really rather go to sleep and shut it all off than sort it all out. It's not all bad either. I mean some of the thoughts are hard to have and some are sobering. Some are sad and some are inspiring. Some are attached to anger and some to determination. All this at the same time. That is the beauty and curse of being a women. - Not the only beautiful curse either- how about emotions? Wonderful, horrible, and distracting emotions.

I have been so distracted lately. Living in the shadow of nothing- yet pure possibility. It's an undefined dream and it steals my attention whenever it can. I'm filled with joy and then despair. Peace and then doubt. Faith and then fear. I'm a woman and I can change my mind and my heart and my hair on a whim and without knowing why either. What I really want is focus- but focus is hard work. I want to do what's right and good regardless of the fleeting and possible effect it may have on my invisible dream. I want to work towards the me in the dream regardless of the unknowns.

"Why not now? Why not here?"

I don't mean to, but I'm finding that I think when I have the life I dream of I will be the person I dream of as well. "Then I will be nicer. Then I will be more giving. Then I will complain less. Then I won't care what stupid show is on TV and change my schedule around to fit it." Yeah, I'm pretty much perfect in the future- you just wait and see. All I need is a husband and some kids and everything will fall into place. Isn't that how it works? Don't you go into crazy-demanding situations and just find the ability to handle it all with grace? What? You mean you have to have some of those skills beforehand? You're telling me that I have to learn how to do that? I have to practice now what I want to be easy for me later? Geez.

All this thought of hard work is making me tired. And I have a long day of practicing to be perfect ahead of me.

Sweet Dreams.

hard work

At times we think we are powerless- like life is happening around us. Other people are members of the orchestra and we just listen to the music. But the truth is, each of us is powerful. With every choice we make, life is different. Maybe there's not a Nobel prize for holding your tongue when your dad is a real jerk or for talking a 4 year old into un-crumpling his latest drawing. Maybe there should be.

I've been fixated on the idea that I want to change the world- that I have to change the world- for nearly ten years now. I look at this massive world I live in and dream in grandeur about ways to reach the most people with a message that inspires and gives life. My youth minister told me we should all pray that God would use us but that I should pray extra hard that it might be in a big way. Why? Because it's easier.

Do you think that is true? Do you think it is hard to be quietly powerful? To change your own little world and watch others change the rest? To be the mother of a Saint? The teacher of a doctor? The childhood coach of the Pro MVP?

I would love to see someday that I changed the world by throwing large amounts of money into the fight against hunger or because my book was a best selling self-help or inspirational piece. I would love to hear peoples lives directed by a quote of mine or deeply touched by a moment I captured in vivid color.

Then again, I always did like the easy path. Not a fan of hard work. And living like I matter every moment of every day...that is hard work. Believing that the effort I put into listening to someone makes a difference is hard work. Knowing that everything after breathing is a choice that could change someones life is hard work. Changing my own little world in order to change the whole world- that...that is hard work.

Heart

...just writing...thinking...writing...

If life was seen in terms of the heart- the real physical heart, and you had a monitor for viewing; the screen would be full of lulls and blips and spikes. You would clearly see where your heart skips a beat, murmurs and moves on. You can see on a monitor a heart attack, and the extra labor the heart undertakes to try and recover. A stroke you can identify, with its damage-caused collapsing. You would see it all right as it was happening.

If that were true, then I would have seen my heart dieing. Dieing slowly struggling for life. I weakened my heart with the drug of anxiety; I stressed it with the weight of sorrow and arrested it with despair. In its attempt to sustain, it raced and skipped and pounded but couldn’t keep pace. Emotionally bedridden and mentally broken I waited for the beats to cease. It was hell in the metaphorical hospital complete with flowers and “get-well soon” cards mocking the life slipping from me. Adjusting, readjusting hanging another IV…still dieing.

But before the final blow I received fresh life- a new heart placed inside. Rushed slowly down the hall; prepped and ripped open. My ribs peeled back, someone standing inside my chest. An unknown violence was occurring deep inside me, as I was dream-sleeping the pain away. Opening my eyes once again it is the peace I remember; the calm, the steady- inside and out. My lungs full, for the first time in so long, with the air I was breathing in anew.

The process of dieing to new life was painful and I carry the memory with me like a scar. But like all scars, it means I lived- lived to tell about it. With this unique transplant of hope, there is no limit to what I can do with the heart inside me- no fear of infection or rejection. It is more mine than the one before - more whole and healed than the one grown from conception. My new heart is the heart I was always meant to have. My new heart is freedom and love.