In my dreams, I am a writer. I write gently. Beautiful words and truthful. I don't know exactly what I write: devotions, articles, or Bible lessons. That part remains illusive. But I know that I write, and it pleases Him.
In my reality, I'm more of a scribbler than I am a writer. My repertoire consists mostly of journals. I write my heart out on the pages of spiral-bound notebooks. They can attest to the fact that I lay it all on the line. Hopes--dreams--disappointments--sins--confessions--my daily struggle to walk by faith and not by my feelings.
In my dreams, I am a writer. A good writer. Effective. Compelling. Those who read my words want to get into Jesus more, and they want to get into His word more. I accomplish my goal. God is good. Life is good.
In my reality, I tell God that I'm tired of following this dream. It's too difficult. Too much waiting. I ask Him to make my not-so-magnificient obsession go away. Give me my life back. I want to go somewhere else. Any place besides this nightmare.
In my dreams, I am a writer. I stay focused. God guides my steps. I take one at a time. I get there.
In my reality, I realize that I have a long way to go. I feel so alone. Does anyone understand?
In my dreams, I am a writer....
A longing fulfilled is sweet to the soul (Proverbs 19a).