Living Dreams

"The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams."

- Eleanor Roosevelt -

 

Dreams: can you imagine life without them?

One of my favorite mantra's is "dream big -- live big." If you knew the epic proportions of my dreamiest dreams you might just laugh at my idealistic thinking super powers. Call it grandiosity or call it visionary strength; whether truth or fiction; distraction or motivation --I consider my dreams my greatest treasure. A gift received from God.

Like any treasure, the freedom to dream big and live big is something not to be taken for granted but rather a gift to be received with gratitude.

Not to be taken for granted because it is a complex gift to be able to dream about a better world, a more cohesive community, an authentic personal life, and then set those dreams into motion. For a lot of people, living out their dreams is like searching for buried treasure. For a lot of us, our dreams get buried or distorted when we are too young to know the difference, and when we are old enough to know the difference we don't know if the treasure is even worth finding. Buried dreams and deep longings exist in all of us. They are the shared beauty in all humanity.  A connection to the world outside of our individual realities. A gift that we all possess but one that we do not all have direct access too. I dream about living fully. But I'm also still digging for buried treasure.

Young adulthood has been a tumultuous transition for me. The world outside of the tiny box that I was raised in is big and mysterious and wonderful. Like an ocean raging, it has moved me, rocked me, beaten me, held me, and ultimately transformed me. And through the process, I have somehow been guided back to where I started: my dreams. A gift from God. Received with gratitude.

I was raised in a community with a lot of fear and few resources. Fear of others and the unknown. Boxes were believed to be better than freedom. Roles and rules over relationships. Gender determined EVERYTHING. Dreams were buried. Dreams were lost. It has been with a lot of trepidation and echoing voices of criticism and shame that I gathered the courage seven years ago to dip my naked feminine toes in the ocean, and allowed myself to breathe in the fresh aroma of freedom. It started with a supportive husband and a certificate and license in massage therapy.  Which  showed me my capabilities and led to the desire for more education, more experience, and the completion of a bachelors degree. Step by step. Freedom is gradually becoming a full mind-body-spirit experience for me. I'm learning how to swim and surf and ride the waves.  It's tumultuous.  It's terrifying. It's transformational.

To dream freely.
To dream my own dreams.
To believe that they are beautiful.

These are gifts that I do not take for granted.

 Dreams of graduate school. Dreams of a future career as an Occupational Therapist. Dreams of using my intelligence, strength, and gifts in a way that contributes positively to society. Dreams of working with people in under-resourced corners. Dreams of bringing hope to those who don't have access to freedom. Dreams of seeing the world and experiencing diverse cultures.  Dreams of being an extension of the loving and healing hands and feet of Christ.
Dreams. Dreams. Dreams.

But dreams cannot live in isolation - dreams demand to be shared. And heard. Dreams provide a shared space in healthy relationships for hope and trust and freedom. There are a handful of people in my life that I fondly think of as my "dream keepers" and my dreams live on because they consistently honor the privilege of hearing and sharing my dreams.

I think of people like Eleanor Roosevelt who was one of the earliest advocates for comprehensive care of persons with disabilities, who passionately advocated for the basic rights of all people.  A person who did not just actively pursue her own dreams - but breathed life into the dreams of others.

Dreams of quality care in the context of normal community for people with disabilities. Dreams of changes in legislation to provide funding for alternative living arrangements for people with disabilities. Dreams of destructive and offensive labels being eradicated for people with disabilities. Dreams of finding more humane ways of treatment and retiring the use of restraint. Dreams of  education for all abilities. Dreams of employment for all abilities. Dreams of transportation for all abilities. Dreams of olympics for all abilities. Dreams that the worth of a human life won't be equated with abilities and accomplishments.
Dreams. Dreams. Dreams. 

Shared Living is about Sharing Dreams.

Not to be taken for granted because it is a complex gift to be able to dream about a better world, a more cohesive community, an authentic personal life, and then set those dreams into motion. Until two decades ago, housing options like Shared Living have only been a dream for people with disabilities. Jodi and Sarah are now living the dream that so many people have been dreaming about for decades. They are living the dream of being seen, heard, and validated as humans worthy of life and love.

Dreams tie us together. Sarah, Jodi, and I are different people from different backgrounds but what we share in common are dreams for freedom and a life worth living.  I've said it before, and I'll say it again, Shared Living is not epic or extraordinary - it is most often mundane and monotonous. And yet it is a living dream. A dream in action. Perhaps dreaming about big dreams is always going to be more epic than living them?  But what good are dreams unless they are lived and shared? There is something about seeing this shared life as a real-life living dream that helps me rest in its imperfect tension.

May you also rest in the belief that your dreams are beautiful. The next step to believing is sharing your dreams with others. Who are the dream keepers in your life? What dreams can you share with others?

POSTSCRIPT:  2015 marks the 25 year anniversary (since 1990) that the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) has been signed into law. It's only been 25 years.  This act has provided the legal protections necessary for people with disabilities to live satisfying and safe lives in the context of integrated and supportive communities. But the real work has only just begun. The opportunities for sharing the dream to improve the quality of life for people with disabilities are ongoing and endless. 

Right here. Right now.

This lent was a season for me to focus on learning how to be still and not so distracted. Giving up social media for 40 days served this purpose well. Allowing me to be more present with my presence. Leaning me towards life in the right here and the right now.

The right here and now is intense and challenging and not at all dreamy.

But I want to write about it so that I remember. So that I can truthfully acknowledge the challenges in my days. So that I can be realistic in my writings and not merely idealistic.

The here and now finds my alarm buzzing at 5:00am. Snooze. Snooze. Wake up. Shower, hair, make-up. Enjoy a hot breakfast made with love by Jesse and a few minutes of coffee flavored quiet time together. We just sit and eat in silence, grateful for these moments until we hear...

"I NEED BRAKFAST!" - and out comes the wee little man with his adorable scruffy morning voice under his adorable scruffy morning hair. And our time together has passed. The two-year old is now awake, in need of cuddles and attention and care before the flurry of prepping meds, prepping breakfast, and prepping lunches begins. 

With everything prepped for everyone else - I head out the door. Anatomy + Physiology class begins at 7:30am sharp. The quiet car ride through the morning fog. The occasional glimpse of orangish red through the towering PNW firs to the east. The privilege to pursue my dreams, to take notes, to learn. Pre-requisites for grad school. 

While I'm in class four mornings a week, Jesse helps Sarah and Jodi with showers, breakfast, teeth brushing and getting on the bus. He takes Caden to preschool. He drives through the mid-morning haze towards the mountains, towards the rising sun to his other full-time work.  

After class I study as much as I can. Amid menu planning and buying groceries. Scheduling appointments. Attending meetings,  planning meetings. Grabbing coffee with a friend.  I pick up Caden from pre-school. 

Lunch time. The day has only just begun. Sit down. I made a commitment this year to sit down and enjoy my lunch. No more washing dishes while eating lunch. No more email responding while eating lunch. No more chasing the two-year old while eating lunch. Sit down. Breathe. Relax. Taste. Enjoy. Just eat lunch. Everything else can wait.

Nap time. Finally.  I claim the couch for a coveted 15-30 minutes. Rest. Recharge. Renew. Read. Be still. Find inspiration. Another 15-30 minutes. Ready to go again. Right here. Right now.

Emails. Phone calls. Meetings. Paperwork. Calendars. Researching ideas. Problem solving. Cleaning. Laundry. Organizing. 

Ding-dong. The bus is here. The ladies are home. Needing guidance. Needing support. Needing life to be shared.

The little one will wake fully re-charged soon, so dinner prep must be underway. Chop, cut, shred,  sauté, steam, blend. Cooking brings me calm. Rhythm in the mundane. Control in the chaos. Joy in the moment. Right here. Right now.

"MY CLOCK IS GREEN!" he yells: and the nap is done. The door slams. Here he comes racing, running, ripping, roaring. Post-nap hugs and drooly kisses. Dreamy stories about lions and giraffes. Time for a snack. Time for a game. Time for a book. Time to help mom cook. 

Sometimes I don't have much left to give when I give it all to dinner. After dinner I just want to clock out and let another clock in. But the other has also worked for 8 hours and is now on his way to class. Driving through the drizzly rain. To Seattle University. To learn. To grow. To change. 

So I take a deep breath and I get ready to push to the end. You can't give up now. The day is not yet done. You can do this. Showers and baths. Patience running thin. Dishes and clean up. Save a plate for Jesse. Medications and dessert. Raising my voice harshly. Sigh. I try again. Band practice, puzzles, and story time.  Tired, I get frustrated easily. Can I really do this? I try again. Big breath. Pajamas. Big sighs. C'mon we're almost there. Teeth brushing. We made it. I apologize for my cranky attitude. Thankful for grace. There was enough for today. Goodnight hugs. 

Wherever you are be all there. Be all there. Be all here. Right here. Right now.

The door opens, he's home again at last. Tired. Happy. Exhausted. Excited. Hungry. Saved a plate for Jesse. Sitting at the table in quiet once more. Sharing stories about the day. Prepping for tomorrow. Discussing weekend plans. Studying on the couch until our eyelids become too heavy. Sleep puts us to bed and tucks us in. Reminding us of our dreams, and that this is just a season.

This is a season. We're here for a reason. Right here. Right now.