Even derail.  Causing our full steam ahead dreams to jump track.  Sometimes even careening into the gully below.

And what are we left with after that?  Just a lot of smoke and ashes and scuff marks on our shoes as we kick at the dust in frustration.

Yet He realizes we are dust.  His precious, albeit frustrating, dust bunnies.

And He wants to scoop us up and say, Hey, don’t you trust me yet?  just like He asked those wearied fishermen so long ago.

So we drag our feet while we walk in circles, wringing out hands, wondering aloud if we are crazy in the head for dreaming dreams that reality seems to slap in the face with the cold hard facts of life:  a tough economy, kids in college, aging parents, growing older.

C.S. Lewis once said, “You are never too old to set another goal or to dream a new dream.”

But, do we?

Do I?

Especially as boomers laden with responsibilities.  Jobs and mortgages and some of us caught in the middle as part of the sandwich generation caring for young families and aging parents.

In the midst of what we must do each day, are we forgetting that He has placed a dream into each of our hearts? A dream that is our purpose?  Do we measure our days and redeem the time, making the most of each moment?

Or, do we think, tomorrow – there’s always tomorrow.  But if we are honest, tomorrow never comes and the last chapter of our story could read…she was almost the woman that God created her to be.  He was nearly the man God had planned for him to be.

Don’t we need to shake it up, baby?  Twist and shout our way as we dance down a roadway paved with Grace, trusting Him with ALL our steps along the way.

I want to shake it up in my own life.

All to the glory of God.

But, some days I shake my head when it looks like the dream is nothing more than the mere wisp of a long forgotten fragment of my idyllic imagination.

Yet aren’t dreams the stuff of which life is made?

Sometimes I get scared.

What if, Lord?

And in this fear, my faith has a chance to grow…

Major life change can be stressful, even when it is change for the better.

For 20 years I have lived in my home, where I raised my kids alone by God’s good grace and magnificent mercy.  Oh, the stories the walls would share if they could speak.  A lifetime of memories fills each and every room, for better and for worse.

And it is here that a scarlet ribbon floats through the rooms of my memory.  Binding my heart to the past.  Curled round my little pinky, while the other hand waves wildly in unfettered anticipatory joy of what’s up next.

Current reality, mine.  Producing much pondering and prayers.

Each day, though, God moves me a little closer to living where He is leading.  And I wonder, will my delay cause disaster or deter His plans?

Contemplation indicates that my seeming delay — perhaps an unconscious attempt at control - is the very thing being used by God for there are lessons to be learned along this particular winding path.  Lessons in the moments of my life… lessons about trust, abandon to God, loving others, letting go…

So, like the over achieving student I was when younger, I want to learn well.  Homeschooled at Father’s hand, as it where.  Give me a gold star, Dad.

When this semester is complete,  I’ll release that scarlet ribbon.  I’ll tuck the memories of one lifetime safely away into my heart of hearts forever.  And then I’ll let the ribbon go, lifted on the wings of the wind, the very Spirit of God, carried ever higher to His throne room as a symbol that I trust Him more than I trust myself.

After numerous sad and scary lessons in my past, I thought this current phase, this transition, would be a piece of cake.  But it isn’t quite that simple, although being a remarried newlywed fills me with a joy never before experienced!

My struggle is not overwhelming, but there needs to be a tying up of loose ends, a saying farewell to what once was, that causes my heart to stick in my throat while it skips a beat or two some days.

I walk forward, and I will keep walking forward even though I may glance over my shoulder at odd moments when a particularly evocative memory is triggered.

And I will hold His hand and not let go, believing that it’s all part of God’s plan for my continued healing, one day at a time.  Healing that grows my heart so it can love better.  Healing that opens my mind and soul to all the creative possibilities He has for me.  Healing that produces such a sweet fragrance.  Healing that might beckon another to say, I want some of that…

How I long to be an aroma pleasing to God.  Just now, as I write these words, I hear him whisper to my heart, You already are, my dearest daughter.  Instead of fighting His love in these words (like so many times before), I simply receive. Thank you, my Lord.

And I smile…