And I live in West Texas.
It's where we're supposed to be, and I don't begrudge it for a moment. But, I do occasionally peruse pictures on Pinterest of the perfect cottage and sigh. A sigh for a dream that seems impossibly out of reach among mesquite trees and cotton fields.
And there are so many other dreams. Bigger dreams. Dreams that my heart still races after, even after the years have come and gone. Even after the dreams have grown past the newborn stage, marched right through the teenage angst, and are now still seemingly unfulfilled as they approach middle-age.
New dreams are thrilling, because anything seems possible when a dream is born. But, old dreams can hurt when "hope deferred makes the heart sick." (Proverbs 13:12)
And that's why there are tears in my eyes as I pore over paint samples this week.
In honor of our tenth year of pastoral ministry in our city, our church has paid to have our house painted. It's something we couldn't have done on our own. A gift so large, it awakened a dream.
For I hold in my hand a paint sample titled simply, "Cream Yellow."
And as I sit in my front yard and picture what my home will look like when it's painted, I have to laugh outloud at how good my Father is. To answer dreams.
For my stucco house will be a creamy yellow-- nestled in a grove of pecan trees, with a pine thrown in for artistic measure. And a dry creek running behind it, with an arbor set into my picket fence leading to my salsa garden and a zipline...
A dream realized. Maybe a little different. Maybe even better.
