15:52 16 June in Rhyme

Nine months ago I was having coffee with a friend. True to our ritual we discussed the latest bands and books, drank good coffee and solved the worlds’ problems.

I was reaching for the milk jug when he asked the question that would spoil my day.  A three-worded landmine planted in my heart that would only detonate much later as the weight of the matter hit home. “What’s your dream?” he asked.

“Huh?” I answered smoothly. “What’s your dream?” he asked again, “your ultimate?” And that’s the moment I realized that I had a better shot at growing a third head than having a ready answer.

It’s not that I didn’t have a dream; it’s just that it wasn’t familiar.  Like a cousin living in a distant town I could vouch for his existence, but I had forgotten what his laugh sounded like.

It bothered me. Like a bad hair day that just wouldn’t go away, I was continually confronted with the ugliness of the situation. Eventually the issue reached critical mass and a series of truth shaped shrapnel exploded in my mind.

Did I have even a shadow of a shot at realizing my dream if I couldn’t keep track of it? Was (gulp)… he (bigger gulp)…still (gigantic gulp)… alive? (insert stunned silence and bewildered eyes, followed by the gulp of all glory-hallelujah gulps here)

A lot has happened since.

I got in my car, travelled to Searchville and spent some time with my cousin. He loves a good Merlot, follows European soccer, and his crazy ideas excite and terrify me equally. I got to know him again, and discovered a couple of things about myself too.

The pursuit of our dreams might not always change the world, but it changes us.

I’m learning that it’s the programmed interruptions in life, like my alarm clock that’ll wake me in the morning from my nighttime dreaming. But it’s the unscheduled alarm bells found in small moments that will attempt to wake the dreams of my heart.

I’ve stopped pressing the snooze button, I’m waking up, and it feels good. No, let me correct myself. It feels great. There’s treasure to be found in the heart of those small moments, and with the grace of God, I’ll find it all.

Volgende Inskrywing
Vorige Inskrywing
Mia Smit

Mia Smit

  • ena 16:14h, 16 June Reply

    Stimuleer nou ‘n heerlike gespreek met myself en my man. Drome,hier kom ons!

  • pops 06:27h, 17 June Reply

    Dis SO waar! Dis die onverwagse, seemingly not-godly, oomblikke wat my die meeste verander. Bring on more of those!

  • BFAN 12:29h, 17 June Reply

    I used to call that clock my “in-between-moments…” I miss that self..the one who called things “in-between-moments..” but would love to visit cousins…and go to a “ville” and chat…:)!

  • derick 20:47h, 17 June Reply

    ek rook sommer n siga op searchville en tuur oor die rotse na die see. verdomde ruit wil ni oop oppad en wat doen mens daarmee? Wel, jy vergeet van die wit tjor se ruit – jy lees n blog en dan gaan skryf jy jou drome uit.

  • Albert 13:22h, 20 June Reply

    Waking up…to face the dread of the unknown, the excitement of adventure, to live a full life, even if it means you end up dead at the end of it.

    Skattejag, hier kom ons!!!

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