Dreaming

Photo credit: The 25th Hour Studios

I spend more time than I should dreaming about different things-- day dreaming, dreaming while I sleep, dreaming while I should be doing other things.  These days my dreams take on a variety of flavors.  I think about houses a lot-- about sea foam colored bathrooms with reminders of home and the beach overtaking the whole design of it.  I think about the marigold colored kitchen with my Tiffany blue Kitchenaid perched on the countertop, big canisters filled with flour and sugar nearby for all of the baking adventures that will take place in our kitchen.  I picture pretty white cabinets with window-pane doors and sunlight coming in through the window by the sink.  I see a big window in the living room that is our house's eyes to world around, where we'll watch dogs play in the yard, neighborhood children riding bikes in the street, the shade of tall, green trees hanging over the lane, giving us beautiful foliage in the fall and a cool place to rest in the heat of summer.  I dream about having friends over during my favorite season, fall, and picture pulling the warm pumpkin chocolate chip bread out of the oven and stirring the crockpot with homemade pumpkin spice lattes.

I dream about owning a dog and coming home from a long day at work to a big, fluffy thing jumping up on me and licking me, as though we haven't seen each other in months.  I think about dog parks and long lists of names to choose from, of runs down the street with a dog running by my side.  I dream of trips home and taking our ball of fluff to the beach in the winter months (when they're allowed), and all of the dog-friendly coffee shops and restaurants that we'll go to as everyone pets the big furry dog.

I dream about a normal life where we have two working adults and no school schedules or student loans.  I dream about dinners together and going on walks outside after long days in the office.  I dream of what we'll do with all of our free time away from studying-- of spending time together both inside and outside of our home.  I think about going to the park, seeing a late-night movie, driving around in search of a good sunset, weekend trips to the lake or the beach, early bedtimes and Sunday brunches.

And I dream about travel.  I dream about renewing passports and seeing the world.  Traveling to the ends of the Earth-- Ireland and England for good fish and chips and gorgeous countryside views, South Africa for the penguins that swim between your legs in the ocean and Tanzania for climbing Mount Kilimanjaro.  I dream of stateside visits-- of the Grand Canyon and the Grand Tetons, of Portland, Seattle coffee, of basking in the sun on the California coast, line dancing my way through Texas and Tennessee, hiking in my home state-- the Great Smokey Mountains and the gorgeous Blue Ridge Parkway in the fall.  I dream about skylines and sunsets and sand between my toes, and all of the wonders of the world before my very eyes.

And then I settle back into life as it is now.  I see the sunset from our bay window and am thankful for a roof over our heads and the small space we inhabit.  I sit across from my husband as we both study for tests and I'm grateful for the opportunity of education.  I think about how busy we both are and am thankful that I don't have to put a poor animal through the long hours of waiting for us at home alone.  And I think about the trips we have been able to take together and am glad for all of the memories I carry with me from them.

Though the anticipation of such things ahead can be ever so lovely, I have to reign myself back in to my reality, and I have to remind myself to appreciate all that is in our current season.  There's a time and a season and a place for everything-- and there's good reason why I can't have some of the things I want right now.  It's a lesson in patience and contentment for me.  Dreaming isn't a bad thing, but living in dreams takes away the memories and joys of the present.  It gives me an unsettled heart, one that is always yearning for more, never quite content with where it is.  It's a practice I've worked on for years.  Last year, my word that I focused on for the year was present.  This year, I still struggle with my practice of remaining in the present.  It's a lesson I must teach myself continuously.  But it's one that's redeemed by the goodness of Jesus and the grace that he showers me with.  And it's one that He helps me with more than I know-- by painting beautiful sunsets outside of our apartment window and by leading me through seasons of darkness sprinkled with small moments of joy.  I hope you're a dreamer, like me, but I hope that you're better at it than I am, that you can pull yourself out of your dream world to fully enjoy the breadth of life around you.

Lots of love,
Cristina.