I used to have a map on my
basement apartment wall in Fort Collins. Every time a different friend would
come over I’d hand them one small sticky note and tell them to write their name
on it. Next I’d tell them to pick one country they dream of going to someday.
Finally, I’d ask them to put it on the map, but only with the understanding that
once they post it, they have to go there.
A visual contract of sorts with the
map.
My map had 50 names all over
the world on it. No two people listed the same country listed. Imagine that. 50 different people.
50 different countries. Now imagine what God could do
with that.
My idea, while trivial and
childlike, was to get my friends dreaming. Even if it was something as small as
seeing there name on a sticky note next to the country they have always dreamed
of going to.
I called it the Dream Map.
Always since I was younger I
have dreamed. Dreamed of being this. Dreamed of being that.
I would go and tell my dad
what I wanted to do or who I wanted to be. He would never laugh at, shoot down,
or discourage this process. Even if he knew deep down I would never try to
accomplish said dream. It didn’t matter to him.
Dreams included going to
North Carolina on a soccer scholarship. Playing professional indoor soccer.
Coaching for a major College program. Going to Germany or Italy to see the
World Cup.
He let me dream. Encouraged
it. Invited me to.
Thats what our Dad in Heaven does too…only even more.
