The One Where I Dream Again

Growing up was different and exciting for me. There was not much as impossible in my books. Let me paint you a picture:

I was the sound english student who hated maths but represented her school in a state competition where she was top three.

I was the kid who initially wanted to be a doctor but hated the stereotype around art students being dull. So I joined the arts and would once in a while stroll into the chemistry class while acing biology (more than I did literature even).

I was the kid at Sunday school, at cultural dance, and bible competitions. The typical pastor’s kid.

I was the kid who enjoyed drawing, painting and talking. I also enjoyed my own company and would sing all the theme songs of my favorite movies (camp rock, high school musical and sound of music).

I wasn’t the cool kid. I was the smart kid. And one who wasn’t prepared for the real world where rejection exists. That was the breaking point. In retrospect, I believe it was God touching my hip bones so I didn’t rely on my smartness, like Jacob. However, it was torture and murder that the God who I had known all my years and served to the best of my abilities will fail me. I served Him harder because I needed Him to show up but He didn’t, not on MY time. So broken, shattered and distrusting, I told Him I didn’t want any part of Him anymore. Why would a good Father deny his daughter a good gift?

What followed would be scenes of a branch detached from the tree, that withered. Scenes where the nose could no longer perceive and the eyes wide-opened, lacked sight. Swimming towards the end of depravity, as far as I could dare, with as much grit as I had for everything else…but His arms were waiting at the end of that ocean.

Caught and never to be the same, the journey to finding the old me in this new skin began. It was hard! I became extremely shy and distrustful. My anxiety hit the rooftop and the fear would clutch at my heart, trying to snuggle what was left of my shattered dreams. I couldn’t even dare to dream again for the fear of death, of disappointing myself and my loved ones. Had a clean slate with zero idea what to do with, who this new person was and why the Father would give me a new chance.

Desperately, I sought for meaning. The more I tried to find it in people and activities, the deeper the hurt ran when they acted human or when I failed. My time was stretched till my dreams faded. I needed help — something or someone solid than life itself — had to keep me anchored, lest I float away again. Certainly, never to return. Grateful for the right places and people; my parents, communities, church/service, and mentors.

Slowly, I had a better picture of the new me; of my identity and purpose. As beautiful as it gets, I wonder sometimes if I’m doing anything right. The rhythm is slower, the time seems to speed up, and every now and then, I ask to be further broken and I surrender the fears again. I also don’t have to be stuck up finding the old me. It’s completely okay to not be that person anymore, but of course, to be better.

As I step into a new year, I reflect on where I’ve been and hoped to be. But the question is different and it’s a challenge I have for you. What will I do at the other side of peace and joy? How far can I stretch my faith and live up to my identity? Can I let go of the reins and the need for control and let God lead? At the end of my life, would it be said that I truly lived and loved to the fullness of that which has been poured out in my heart? Or will I get to the other side, stuttering in failure?

If you’re reading this, it’s a reminder that God’s love is steadfast and his arms are wide-opened to take you back, no matter how far you’ve gone. It’s also a call to dream again or better still, let’s dream together. Each day gets our best shot of work, rest and joy. Even when we’re not seen, the One who sees validates us.

To dreaming again🥂

Love and Light.