So as I was sitting there in my chair, I looked down and it was on the binder and on the cute canvas bag. This phrase: It's not crazy to chase your dreams. And I thought, "I really wish they would have put a different mantra on these because the branding is really good." It was that silent moment of awful judgment where my heart was grabbed. I think I felt a whisper or something sitting on the scratchy tweed. A pleasant draft hit my cheek as someone got up and rushed past me. You know what I'm talking about. It's their perfume + the air and sometimes, when the smell is docile enough, it's sort of nice that other people smell good. Maybe it was more the feeling of hope swirling around my face. "Could that really be true?".
I get all weird about people chasing passions and dreams because I know that it will lead to emptiness. You know, getting the dream job, or having the baby, or traveling like you wanted to. You will get there and it won't touch your satisfaction meter but for 10 days max before you find something else you need to chase. So I just don't chase them. I stay. I'm a stayer. It's been a good skill for me to learn not to chase everything that passes by, to be quiet, to sit. But then, somewhere in my staying, I forgot how to get back up again when it was time.
There is a time for staying and a time for going. I think I know this? Nothing ever stays the same for us, because we don't even stay the same. If you ask me who I was last year at this time, I will smile the knowing smile and tell you that I'm so different. By the grace of God, I'm so different than I was last year. I'm softer in body and the lines around my eyes but also softer in my soul. In my judgements--although they are still there and sometimes very loud and annoying. But I'm not as hard as I used to be About the way you do what you do. Because maybe it's time for me to sit and for you to go. Maybe it's time for you to rally the cause while I rest. Maybe it's time for me to go to battle while you make sure the home stays kept. "It's really ok to all be at different places, last year self," I would say with my hands up around my last year's cheeks.
And maybe it's time for me to get up off of my mat and no longer be paralyzed by cynicism. The draftiness of hope dances on these cheeks and asks me to dream. It's a smiling God with soft hands asking me to come with him and I'm not sure where I'm going except that it's with him. The chasing will be with him. I can always expect that, because although I always change, He didin't. This whole time. The same God that asked me to stay put all these years is asking me to get up now and run with expectation.
I feel breathy and awkward. Like when you run with someone while holding hands and you can't quite get your gait. But I'm laughing too hard to even care to stop, even though the destination ahead is whited out with a sunny glare. I guess I don't have to know the place up ahead.
The reward, as I have always said to myself, is not the destination but the withness with God. He is the prize, not the thing we're trying to grab with our grabby hands. As I have mulled this around in my head for weeks and weeks tied together on a string to make months, I am really starting to believe that it's ok to chase my dreams. After all, I didn't come up with them anyway. Not for the dreams sake, but for the hand-holding, awkward, breathy run across the sun-glared field. The sweaty palms, the ache in my side, how he turns back to look at me laughing. It's this that I was made for.