"Don't Get Comfortable" by Brandon Heath was one of my favorite songs my last couple semesters of college. My favorite line is, "I am gonna show you what I mean, I am gonna love like you've never seen, you are gonna live like you used to dream, this is your new song."
This was my theme song. For a good chunk of my senior year of college I knew that I would be moving to Sydney (yes, Australia) after graduation to get my PhD in neuropsychology. I spent my spring break that year in Sydney visiting a couple schools and scoping out my future life. I was so sure about this next step that I only applied to my top school. Backup plan? Who needs a backup plan? I had the whole thing planned out, down to what I would post as my Facebook status announcing that I had been accepted to the school and would be moving to Australia: "Ashley is about to live like she used to dream." Yep--we're talking waaaay back in the day when you had to write your Facebook status in the third person unless you wanted it to just look dumb.
And then my application was rejected. When I got the rejection letter in the mail I immediately went out and bought an international calling card so I could call the admissions office to see if there had been some mistake. They said I didn't have enough research experience to be considered for the program. It sounded like some information might have gotten lost in the translation from American to Australian, because I was pretty sure my semester spent on one research project should be enough to get me in the door. I said I would send more information, and they said they would take another look when they received it.
A couple weeks later I got another letter. Nope, still not accepted.
Fast forward a couple months, and I'm planning on moving to Denver to study for my MA in Scripture. A bit of a paradigm shift, but I had nothing better to do (seriously, that was how I felt about it). I was excited about the program (learning Greek!!!), but I wasn't sure I was going to like Denver. I mean, it's not Sydney. So how could I ever really like it?
Fast forward to the end of my first semester. I'm ready to move back to Nebraska and finish my degree via distance education. But I guess I'll finish out this first year.
Fast forward to the end of January. Some girls I'm in Bible study with are headed out to an Irish pub for some live music with friends from high school/college and invite me to join them.
Fast forward to the next January. I marry the guy I met in that pub.
Fast forward to the next January. We have a baby. Etc.
Fast forward to now. It sure doesn't look like what I was dreaming about my senior year of college. Heck, it doesn't look too much like what I dreamed about ever. I always wanted to get married and have a family. But I never spent my time dreaming about that year and a half we would live with my husband's parents while dealing with a schizophrenic housing market. I never dreamed about those last, awful, stubborn 15 pounds of baby weight that just wouldn't come off, even after all most nine months, dang it! I never dreamed I would have two babies who needed me so desperately multiple times a night every night for months and months. I dreamed about the beauty and joy of marriage and children--I didn't spend much time dreaming about the pain and the sacrifice and the dying-to-self bits.
And all the joy and beauty that I did dream about doesn't even begin to compare to the real thing.
So I'll keep dreaming. And I'll keep praying that God teaches me how to dream. Because nothing brings more peace in the end than allowing God to conform the desires of my heart to his (but ohmygoodness is it a painful process sometimes).
There, that wasn't so hard.
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