We were sitting on the floor, cross-legged on the beige carpet.
I thought about how weird it was that in a few months, this carpet would have furniture pressing little square indents into it and we’d open the front door and call it “home.”
I thought about how hot it is in Dallas and how much I wanted to blast the AC to a level my soon-to-be-grad-student budget wouldn’t allow.
I thought about how it my first birthday in three years I wouldn’t spend with my debate family, eating funfetti in a cute little cabin in Gatlinburg.
Mostly, I thought about how mildly mind-blowing it was to be sitting on this beige carpet.
In the span of a week, I’d: moved to Dallas, bought textbooks for my first semester of grad school, and landed an incredible job at a loving church.
All great and beautiful things, but none of them were the plan I’d proudly crafted for myself.
Today, I’m thrilled at the prospect of all of these new adventures, but if you’d asked me about them a couple years ago, I would have flat-out turned you down. No thanks to moving to a place that’s 100 degrees in September. No thanks to theology textbooks and constantly answering a very pointed “What are you going to do with that?” No thanks to uncertainty.
I had other dreams. Good dreams, mind you. Good dreams for someone else. Someone who God actually gave those dreams to.
Instead, He gave me these dreams: a bedside table piled high with books, fingers clanking out scary and messy words and releasing them into the wild. Bible classes and more long nights with unfinished papers. Chasing kids around a church building and getting drenched in slime.
Dreams no better or holier than the old ones, expect for the fact that they aren’t my own.
They aren’t dreams crafted from insecurities and fears. They aren’t dreams soaked up from earthly expectations or built by a scared little soul desperately seeking for something to make it whole.
These dreams are His.
My 22nd birthday was different than most: it was filled with new people and it involved more 3rd grade Sunday School curriculum than ever before.
It also ended a little stranger and sweeter than normal: sitting on my bed, crying happy tears for fear turned into faith and scary things shrunken down to size by an immeasurable God.