Letting Go of My Dream and Seeking God's Glory

Still exploring the 'how's and 'why's behind my lack of confidence in my God (if you need to catch up check out my original post, Getting to Know my Heart, and my previous post, Asking God Why), I wanted to go back farther than my last post. I wanted to go back to my childhood. That's what all the psychologists do, right? I thought I would go fishing in the muddy waters of my childhood and see if I could catch the big one, the one that would explain just where exactly I went wrong, or should I say where exactly I feel God went wrong.

In my exploration and prayer, I remembered a dream I once had. I was twelve. That dream became a vision of sorts to me, I used to think it was a glimpse into my future, part of my calling. In that dream, I was an adult, walking out of an old-fashioned little white house onto a dirt road running by the house. I heard a screen door slam behind me as I walked out, and laughter, lots of laughter. I walked down the porch stairs into the waiting arms of happy smiling children. We were all bare footed wearing simple white clothes. They were much darker complected than me, the white of their smiles glowed in the sunlight. It must have been sunset because I remember gold everywhere, not the kind you wear, but the color. We were surrounded by golden grass swaying in the breeze. There were short, gnarled spreading trees on the horizon, and across and diagonal from that little white house was a little white church. The kind you see in books and old tv shows with a steeple and a cross on top. Arm in arm with two children and followed by several more, we walked across the dirt road and into that little white church. Then I heard singing, beautiful and majestic....upon waking, I felt as if I'd had a glimpse of heaven, and not one detail of that dream has faded from my memory. It's still as clear in my mind now as it was the moment I woke up.

Not long after having that dream I felt called to surrender to full-time Christian service. It wasn't in some special church service or youth rally. I remember spinning (yes I said spinning, twirling really, something little girls do) in the sun outside my house. The sun was warm on my face, uncommon for December. I was wearing my favorite Christmas sweatshirt (one my Aunt Linda and my cousin Beth made with me back when puffy paint was cool). I was praying while I twirled, thanking God for the sunshine, my favorite sweatshirt, my family and the life He gave me. It was almost like He asked, "will you serve Me?" And, in the beauty and warmth of the moment, I emphatically replied, "Yes."

Naturally putting two and two together, I assumed that the dream was the indication of my calling. I was to be a missionary, probably to Africa somewhere. There were small deviations from the plan, like wanting to be a vet or a graphic designer living in New York City, but I always came back to this vision I thought God had given me. I chose a Christian college, and pretty much only dated people who shared that calling. Well, that is until I started dating the man who is now my husband. He was called to be a medical doctor, and while he surrendered to serve in missions on a mission trip our youth group took to Mexico while we were dating, he made it clear that what I thought I was called to and what he was called to were two very different things. The problem was that this was three months after we were married. I won't lay all this on him because any time there's a communication breakdown, we're both to blame. We might both speak English, but I've found in the nearly 10 years we've been married, we don't speak anywhere near the same language. I was devastated. Somehow, doctor's wife didn't fit into my full time Christian service plan. Now what?

Fast forward to my marriage falling apart just a little more than one year after we were married, and I struggled with believing I had made a huge mistake. This man wasn't the right one for me, and now I was stuck. Of course, any time I really began to believe that, God took me back to college and reminded me of a very special time of communion with Him in which He gave me a verse and the go ahead to date this man.

"For it is God that worketh in you, both to will and do of His good pleasure." Philippians 2:13

At this very moment, I am miraculously still married to that same man, educating our three children at home, and managing our autistic son's care. By the standards I set for myself back when I was a child, I haven't accomplished much in my life to this point.

It's easy though to blame our own failures on those around us. It's in our DNA and goes all the way back to Adam and Eve. Can you hear me now, "God, the man you gave me isn't doing what I wanted him to do...." So, here we are in the here and now. "The man YOU gave me." This is the biggest part of my distrust in God. It's His fault I never realized what I feel was my true calling. Some days I feel like He just taunted me with it and then took it away. Now, let's stop for a second and think about this. If God is the one making the plan and calling me to it, and He's also the one guiding me in my life, how exactly can I blame Him for not getting me there? The logical conclusion is to say, that His plan isn't my plan, and it wasn't really where He wanted me to be. It was just a dream.

Great. Now, I'm living without a dream. That's awesome, because I do so well without a plan. Anything I've attempted to accomplish since letting go of that dream, I've stopped short. Getting my Master's degree is the perfect example. I've been two classes away from finishing since before my daughter was conceived, and she's three now. I feel like I'm drifting through life, watching it and all those around me with dreams and callings pass me by, and I still feel like God is to blame.

I like wrapping up my posts with some type of happy conclusion, something that I learned or how God intervened, but unfortunately this one is ongoing. I know in my head that I should be happy with my calling as mother to three amazing children and wife to a good man, but in my heart, I can't shake this feeling that I've missed something. I'll address more in the next post, but again I find myself wanting to believe God is good, He loves me and He does have a calling for me. I WANT to believe it, but my heart is so wrapped around the loss of that dream, that I can't honestly say that I do.

Here's where I believe God takes our doubt and uses it to make us better. My question for God is no longer 'why did all this happen to me' but 'where are You?' "Are you going to leave me here to figure this out for myself or will you heal my heart and give me a new calling? I bend before You and ask like Moses, please show me your glory."

"And he [God] said, 'I will make all my goodness pass before you and will proclaim before you my name, 'The Lord.'" Exodus 33:19

"Show me Your glory, God, and I will proclaim it from the rooftop You've given me."