Dream Stealer

When recently waking my son for school,  he greeted my efforts with uncharacteristic harshness and a dark, dramatic chuckle...

"Dream stealer!" he bellowed out in the best he could muster, half asleep grumpy old man, tone.

In the many mornings of waking my wonderful son, thankfully, I never recall him addressing me that way.

I was startled by his words and they returned my thoughts to a long, long time ago...

The first memory was of him when he was just a toddler, cheeks the shape of two giant jawbreakers and as smooth as the silky top of a newly opened jar of peanut butter.  In those days, Mike greeted me every morning, without fail, "Good to see you, Mommy!"

Oh, the pleasure in remembering that precious boy face saying those sweet, welcoming words.  I could hardly wait for him to get up each morning because his loving greeting was music to my ears_ it put the bounce in my young mom, steps.  Mike is my dream come true, first born.  In his tender eyes back then, I think I may have been a dream maker, rather than a dream stealer.

The second memory brought to mind is not so pleasant. Though it takes me way, way, waaaayyyy back to a time during my adolescence it has a vicious superpower villain force that can strip a smile straight off of my face in a flash.

I'd been finishing up high school and was trying to sort through all of those huge decisions such as where I should go to college and what I should study.  At the same time, things were pretty hectic at home as my parents were retiring and planning to relocate out of state.

It happened at a family dinner in my sister's home.  I don't think we were celebrating a special event or anything, it was just me and my parents, my sister and her family, a couple of my brothers and their families sharing a casual, Sunday after church, dinner.

Sometime after the blessing and before I'd finished making my way around the adults table filling my plate with food before returning to the kids table, somebody asked the question.

"So, what are you planning to study in college?"

 Without an ounce of hesitation I answered confidently, "Music and art."

Different ones said this or that about some of my art and music experiences along with the typical sentiments expected to be heard when a young persons' hopes and dreams are being revealed and pondered.  Then from out of nowhere, when someone was talking about the songs I had written and how there were specialized schools for music that I might want to investigate, heavy hitting words entered my head like giant stones.  Recalling those words can still make blue skies turn gray.

"Well, hopefully you're not thinking that you're the next Amy Grant or something, 'cause that'll never happen!"

At that time, Amy Grant was just making a name for herself and I probably listened to her album at least three or four times a week.  I remember learning to play a couple of her songs on the piano.

Before those words were spoken, I really hadn't seen myself as becoming the next anybody.  I had felt compelled to do my own thing via the arts.

By art and music teachers, classmates and friends, based on performance, I'd been encouraged to pursue the arts practically all of my life. I had never gone out looking for music or art, but rather, it was as if they had somehow found me.

Despite the collective positive support in my life, the words of an older sibling over a crowded dinner table struck me down like a knife in the darkness.  I hadn't anticipated such a blow from this person, ever, and I couldn't put it into context at the time so, unfortunately, the destructive words reeked havoc on my confidence for a very long time.

"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me." 

Bones grow back!  

We tend our broken bones, a doctor confirms the injury and friends acknowledge our boo-boo by signing the awkward cast and maybe even give us flowers or candy.  In due time, when the cast comes off, we're all better!  Words, however, once they're spoken, are out there for all of eternity.  To make it worse, it's possible that nobody else ever hears the damaging words, only you. Words can create doubt. Doubt steals dreams.

Like I shared with you the other day, what comes out of our mouth, matters!
After all, nobody wants to be called a dream stealer, do they?

Hi, God.
Yes, I did bring up an old injury but thankfully God, whenever a yucky memory surfaces to rear its ugly head, you help me sort through the mess of potentially tormenting words and I am reminded again of all of the many ways you always meet my needs, even the quiet unvoiced ones.

Having experienced the pain of poorly chosen words at such a difficult transitioning time in my life has made me especially thoughtful regarding the words that I choose to speak into the lives of the young people in my life.  I try to leave a window of possibility in my conversations with my own kids as well as their friends.  I try to listen more than I speak and I acknowledge whatever gifts or abilities that I recognize in them.

So, thank you God for allowing that tough time in my own life to produce some sensitivity in me that I believe you have used to benefit others.  I love how you turn the bad things in life into some kind of good.

You amaze me that way, God.  So much of what I've considered to be devastating in life has created beauty in its wake.  You've turned my mourning into dancing and lifted my sorrow, time and time, again!

Psalm 30:11

New Living Translation (©2007)

You have turned my mourning into joyful dancing. 

You have taken away my clothes of mourning and clothed me with joy,

Again God, I ask of you today, tomorrow and for all of the days to follow, make me aware of how powerful my own words can be and help me to build others up with the words that I speak.  Thank you for every encouraging, uplifting and inspiring word that I get to share.

__________________________________________________________________________________

Funny how things come together sometimes...

My niece sent me this forward just as I was closing my prayer.  Also, today is day 18 of my 30 day journey of blogged conversational prayer.  I'd love to hear what you think of it so far, so leave a comment or simply check a box to share your thoughts.

There are four things that you cannot recover in life:
The stone after it's thrown.
The word after it's said.
The occasion after it's missed
The time after it's gone.