A late night on Facebook and a message pops up from a friend in Swaziland. We catch up for a few minutes then I tell him I'm about to head for bed, it's late here in the States. I head to the kitchen for more green tea and then return to see his last message. Two words. Dream well. Sweet dreams he means, I think smiling. Dream well.
I love how the Lord speaks to me. In the quiet when the rain is falling. When I'm smiling. In the roaring of my heart when the tears are rolling. Always the still small voice.
Dream well.
When did we stop dreaming? Not the kind of dreams that fill your head at night, but the kind of dreams that fill your heart during the day.
The big, crazy, wild dreams. The ones that scare you just a little bit. The dreams that seem so possible when we are young and so improbable when we grow older.
Every year as an old calendar is tossed away and new days begin, resolutions are pounded out. Work more, spend less, clean more, do more, be more.
But this New Year, in a message from a sweet friend in Africa, God reminded me to dream more. Not just more. Dream well.
Don't be afraid to dream big, crazy, scary, impossible dreams. The kind that fill your heart with possibility. The kind that change people, the kind that change you.
Dream well.
