Have you experienced the death of a dream? Maybe it was a career that didn't materialize, the happy and loving marriage you'd always dreamed of but aren't experiencing or has even ended in divorce. It could be the path your child(ren)is taking? For some, it's the perfect health you've always enjoyed....until now.
I know I've experienced the death of a dream and I can tell you that it didn't die, easily - In fact, I tried to resurrect it, repeatedly, only to find it was unresponsive to all my desperate attempts at resuscitation! Not long ago, I finally came to a place where I realized I had to give my dead dream a proper burial so that the birth of a new dream could take root!
It's important, before we bury a dream, we allow ourselves to mourn and then we examine it, just as a coroner examines a body to discover the cause of death, before turning it over to it's final resting place. We need to understand what happened...inasmuch as it helps us to move on, in a new direction, and then we need to lay it to rest.
I know one dream of mine, regarding the pathway each of my boys would take as they grew into adulthood, was destined for the grave, because its success depended on the choices of other people and, I didn't realize it, at the time, but I thought I was in control of the outcome. You see, if I played my role, correctly, and implemented the "right" formula, the outcome was a sure thing! It's easy, right? 2+2 most definitely =4! Thing is, friends, I had made that dream a god in my life instead of God, himself. I didn't realize it but I had that dream in a death grip (pun intended) and allowed it to become a "have to happen" the way I envisioned it situation. I can see, looking back now, that, unintentionally,I caused my boys alot of pain, while I thought I was protecting them and training them in the way they should go! Don't get me wrong, here. We should teach our children the Word of God and pray with them, help them, as much as possible, to choose the good and right things in everything they do, from the words they speak, to the things they allow into their minds, to abstinence in dating and so on! It IS our responsibility and if we shirk that, as parents, we have to account for it. At the same time, we must always keep God as our God and realize that things may not go just as we'd like or thought they should, but God has a redemptive plan and it could look a lot different than ours. Since I had the wrong god, it was devastating, beyond words, when it didn't pan out like I thought! I missed what I am now enjoying and that is having the sure faith that God is at work in their lives and resting in that, day by day.
Now, not all dreams die because of ours or someone else's wrong choices. There are times when God allows things to happen in our lives for reasons we may not understand until we reach eternity and we must accept that. I love this phrase I once heard, "In acceptance, lieth peace." We rely on God and our Christian friends and family to help us through those times and pray for God to be glorified in the outcome.
Other dreams are never realized because of inaction on our part or a debilitating fear that keeps us from taking a risk. Once we realize that a dream is lifeless, we must guard against allowing fear to take root instead of a new dream! I've been there! May we never live a day without a dream! It may be a more appropriate or attainable version of a misdirected dream or it may be entirely new but we must never compare the new dream to the old one. Often things behind us appear better than they were! :-) We need to check with the Source who gives us life, and allow him to birth those new dreams that have purpose and are marked by his grace.
Today, if you are holding on to a dead dream, it is likely hurting you and keeping you from a brand new one! Take a trip to your knowing place and bury it before God. He will birth a new and wonderful dream in your heart, as you yield to his plan. You will begin to feel the stirrings of hope and anticipation, and the heaviness of the grief you've been carrying, will find it's resting place. I know it's true. I've experienced it.
Jer. 31:13: "I will turn their mourning into gladness; I will give them comfort and joy instead of sorrow."
Eccl. 3:4, "[there is] a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance..."
Still Climbing,
Cher
Wednesday
Tuesday
Joe Barnes - Man of Influence...Part I
"Being dead, he still speaks." Hebrews 11:4
This was the verse read at my dad's funeral 8 years ago and, every time I think of it, I marvel at how appropo it was in it's application to who he was and the influence he carried...and still does, in the hearts of those who knew him.
Joe Barnes was a man of influence.
Like many girls, I adored my dad and, in my eyes, he was a giant of a man. Oh, he had faults (a few :) but they seemed to pale in the light of his unwavering strengths. It has been said, within our family, that Dad didn't go around barking out commands but, when he spoke, on a serious note, you listened. It seemed as though his directions were edicts not to be ignored or taken lightly, especially on the larger matters of life and moral/ethical decisions. I didn't often live up to my dad's expectations in my choices as a teenager and young adult but I wanted to. And when I failed to do so, I didn't want him to know it! So different from much of what we see today. I would never have smoked or cussed in front of my father or told him of my "shameful" deeds, not because I feared punishment but because I feared disappointing him. I loved and respected my dad and It felt like a knife to my heart knowing I let him down. Much like him in his childhood, though, I was prone to mischief and impulsive misbehaving.
Dad had a great sense of humor, a constant twinkle of mischief in his pale blue eyes and he could fix anything and did as soon as it needed it. I was always amazed at his patience with a Do it Yourself manual and the tenacity to work at something until he had it figured out and done! He had stick-to-it-iveness! I did NOT inherit that trait. lol!
As hard as it may be to believe, I never heard my dad raise his voice in all of the years I knew him. I heard him get stern a very few times but rarely with me. My brother tells of one time when he raised him up off his feet against the refrigerator, as a young man, and didn't say a word, in response to him mouthing off. I can't imagine Dad doing that but I know my brother says he deserved it and understood exactly what was "being said." Very different from the response that it would likely bring today, no doubt!
Having been a surprise to his parents late in life, the youngest of 8, he had more personality and energy for mischief than a whole pack of boys and tired, older parents who didn't do a whole lot about it. There were many tales of provoking his cousin, the Sheriff, in the small town in Alabama where he was raised, to chase after him, by racing past him in his "cut-down" car, cutting school and playing endless pranks on teachers and classmates.
I remember, even as a child, my dad driving very fast in his Boss Haus - the 69 Mach I Mustang he loved. He and my mom both had the "need for speed" and rode Harley's, too. I inherited that love for fast cars and Harley's! Dad was pulled over and lectured once when my brother and I were sleeping in the back seat and he was clocked going 100 mph on a curvy road on his way from Houston to Alabama for a trip home. He, like me, was always respectful when "caught" and felt bad that his impulsive behavior had caused a problem...but he continued in the same vein until years later. After my brother and I were grown and gone, he and my mom ran into an old school mate, who refused to believe my dad was a Safety Director for a trucking company. He would later become VP of Safety. The school mate laughed himself silly at the thought. Dad did wear a helmet later in life when riding the Harley and his driving slowed down after dealing with the results of reckless driving in his job.
Dad didn't attend church and, consequently we, as a family, didn't either but, somehow, I knew and perceived in him that he was a believer. He didn't "talk it up" often but I saw him tear up at old gospel hymns and he always seemed to have a love and respect for the Lord. He was a regular attender the last 6 months of his life, though he had no idea he was going to die of acute Leukemia.
Even though Dad still liked to play pranks, at work, and have a good time, he was also known for his character. I saw many instances where he went out of his way to be honest in his dealings and to right any wrongs he realized he had done. I remember once he told me that, as a very young man on his first job driving a bread truck, he had sold some bread as fresh that was "day old" and pocketed the money for a short period of time. It had bothered him all the years since and he had tried in vain to look for the company to repay what he believed he owed. When he found out the company was no longer in business, he rid himself of the money for what he believed was a good cause. This was just one example of many where I saw his character and humility.
Dad was also generous. My parents both let me know, by example, that to leave a tip less than 15-20% of the bill, was a "sorry" thing to do. They always said if they couldn't afford to tip well, they couldn't afford to eat out. I have that very same mentality, today. I guess that one stuck! lol! I remember he and Mom turning around to go back to a restaurant they had been to earlier to give the waitress a $100 tip (my parents weren't rich by any means) because they felt bad for her as she was going through a tough time. You also didn't want to litter around my dad as he categorized that as "sorry" and "lazy" too and he had a strong aversion to cussing. He had little respect for people who cussed, frequently, or used the GD or F-bomb and said they needed to increase their vocabulary. I remember him telling a neighbor that he expected him to control his language around my mother and me. He did have some strong opinions on certain issues....and I'm afraid THAT he did pass on, as well! Neither my brother nor I cuss....not that we don't have other vices! lol
I have many fond memories of my dad - one was when he would call me out to his car to listen to a sentimental country song he had heard on the radio or purchased. One was Butterfly Kisses about a daddy and his little girl. We just sat side by side in the car listening and he'd look over with a little smile playing around his lips and tear-brimmed eyes. I loved him so much for that soft spot he had! I also remember him waking me up in the wee hours of the morning, back when he drove a truck, asking if I was "hungry." Of course I said "yes!" and got up to eat a sandwich with him. :)
I also remember when he caught me smoking - I was 16, as I recall, and had taken my mom's car to the store. I smoked and threw the butt out the windown but it came back in the back window and burned a hole in the seat. :-0 My dad made me sit down and told me I would NOT be a smoker if he could help it as he had battled that addiction all his life and it was too terrible to see me take it on (do as I say....). He made me sit down and smoke an entire pack one after the other until I was green! Actually, he left my mom to deal with it. He wasn't good at being "the bad guy." Poor Mom! I was sooo sick! He hoped I would never smoke again. It worked for awhile and then I picked it back up and smoked off and on until I was 19 and quit - never touched them, again.
The day I went to tell my dad I was pregnant at 19 with my now ex-husband in tow, was a dreadful day. My dad turned his controlled but direct anger towards him, which wasn't necessarily fair, but he was 8 years older than me and I think it hurt Dad too much to believe it was "my" fault. I won't go into details here about that event but I moved out of the house after that and my parents did not attend my wedding. It would be six months before we were together again, after that day.
While most girls are escorted down the aisle by a smiling father and given away to the man they love, I found out years later that my dad was lying in bed, shaking, hanging onto the rails behind his bed, in agony, that he had "let me down" in not raising me in church and to "know better." As I was crying on my way down the aisle, not because I was happy but because I knew I didn't love this man but believing I had to do the "right" thing and because my family was not there with me. I realized my choices had killed my little girl's dream. My mom told me years later that she and my grandmother were watching across the parking lot. It was a dark day but I had made my bed and was determined to lie in it, which I did for 18 years. Dad should have realized he had taught me that, by example. :)He could not attend, in good conscience, because of the fact that my ex-husband had been married before, causing me to commit adultery and because I was pregnant out of wedlock. Somehow, I was never angry at Dad for this. I knew what my dad believed and didn't really expect anything different. Right or wrong, my dad was a man who stood by what he believed and he believed, in his heart, he could not give me his blessing. He was heartbroken and so was I....
Remembering you, Daddy!
To be continued.
Still Climbing,
Cher
This was the verse read at my dad's funeral 8 years ago and, every time I think of it, I marvel at how appropo it was in it's application to who he was and the influence he carried...and still does, in the hearts of those who knew him.
Joe Barnes was a man of influence.
Like many girls, I adored my dad and, in my eyes, he was a giant of a man. Oh, he had faults (a few :) but they seemed to pale in the light of his unwavering strengths. It has been said, within our family, that Dad didn't go around barking out commands but, when he spoke, on a serious note, you listened. It seemed as though his directions were edicts not to be ignored or taken lightly, especially on the larger matters of life and moral/ethical decisions. I didn't often live up to my dad's expectations in my choices as a teenager and young adult but I wanted to. And when I failed to do so, I didn't want him to know it! So different from much of what we see today. I would never have smoked or cussed in front of my father or told him of my "shameful" deeds, not because I feared punishment but because I feared disappointing him. I loved and respected my dad and It felt like a knife to my heart knowing I let him down. Much like him in his childhood, though, I was prone to mischief and impulsive misbehaving.
Dad had a great sense of humor, a constant twinkle of mischief in his pale blue eyes and he could fix anything and did as soon as it needed it. I was always amazed at his patience with a Do it Yourself manual and the tenacity to work at something until he had it figured out and done! He had stick-to-it-iveness! I did NOT inherit that trait. lol!
As hard as it may be to believe, I never heard my dad raise his voice in all of the years I knew him. I heard him get stern a very few times but rarely with me. My brother tells of one time when he raised him up off his feet against the refrigerator, as a young man, and didn't say a word, in response to him mouthing off. I can't imagine Dad doing that but I know my brother says he deserved it and understood exactly what was "being said." Very different from the response that it would likely bring today, no doubt!
Having been a surprise to his parents late in life, the youngest of 8, he had more personality and energy for mischief than a whole pack of boys and tired, older parents who didn't do a whole lot about it. There were many tales of provoking his cousin, the Sheriff, in the small town in Alabama where he was raised, to chase after him, by racing past him in his "cut-down" car, cutting school and playing endless pranks on teachers and classmates.
I remember, even as a child, my dad driving very fast in his Boss Haus - the 69 Mach I Mustang he loved. He and my mom both had the "need for speed" and rode Harley's, too. I inherited that love for fast cars and Harley's! Dad was pulled over and lectured once when my brother and I were sleeping in the back seat and he was clocked going 100 mph on a curvy road on his way from Houston to Alabama for a trip home. He, like me, was always respectful when "caught" and felt bad that his impulsive behavior had caused a problem...but he continued in the same vein until years later. After my brother and I were grown and gone, he and my mom ran into an old school mate, who refused to believe my dad was a Safety Director for a trucking company. He would later become VP of Safety. The school mate laughed himself silly at the thought. Dad did wear a helmet later in life when riding the Harley and his driving slowed down after dealing with the results of reckless driving in his job.
Dad didn't attend church and, consequently we, as a family, didn't either but, somehow, I knew and perceived in him that he was a believer. He didn't "talk it up" often but I saw him tear up at old gospel hymns and he always seemed to have a love and respect for the Lord. He was a regular attender the last 6 months of his life, though he had no idea he was going to die of acute Leukemia.
Even though Dad still liked to play pranks, at work, and have a good time, he was also known for his character. I saw many instances where he went out of his way to be honest in his dealings and to right any wrongs he realized he had done. I remember once he told me that, as a very young man on his first job driving a bread truck, he had sold some bread as fresh that was "day old" and pocketed the money for a short period of time. It had bothered him all the years since and he had tried in vain to look for the company to repay what he believed he owed. When he found out the company was no longer in business, he rid himself of the money for what he believed was a good cause. This was just one example of many where I saw his character and humility.
Dad was also generous. My parents both let me know, by example, that to leave a tip less than 15-20% of the bill, was a "sorry" thing to do. They always said if they couldn't afford to tip well, they couldn't afford to eat out. I have that very same mentality, today. I guess that one stuck! lol! I remember he and Mom turning around to go back to a restaurant they had been to earlier to give the waitress a $100 tip (my parents weren't rich by any means) because they felt bad for her as she was going through a tough time. You also didn't want to litter around my dad as he categorized that as "sorry" and "lazy" too and he had a strong aversion to cussing. He had little respect for people who cussed, frequently, or used the GD or F-bomb and said they needed to increase their vocabulary. I remember him telling a neighbor that he expected him to control his language around my mother and me. He did have some strong opinions on certain issues....and I'm afraid THAT he did pass on, as well! Neither my brother nor I cuss....not that we don't have other vices! lol
I have many fond memories of my dad - one was when he would call me out to his car to listen to a sentimental country song he had heard on the radio or purchased. One was Butterfly Kisses about a daddy and his little girl. We just sat side by side in the car listening and he'd look over with a little smile playing around his lips and tear-brimmed eyes. I loved him so much for that soft spot he had! I also remember him waking me up in the wee hours of the morning, back when he drove a truck, asking if I was "hungry." Of course I said "yes!" and got up to eat a sandwich with him. :)
I also remember when he caught me smoking - I was 16, as I recall, and had taken my mom's car to the store. I smoked and threw the butt out the windown but it came back in the back window and burned a hole in the seat. :-0 My dad made me sit down and told me I would NOT be a smoker if he could help it as he had battled that addiction all his life and it was too terrible to see me take it on (do as I say....). He made me sit down and smoke an entire pack one after the other until I was green! Actually, he left my mom to deal with it. He wasn't good at being "the bad guy." Poor Mom! I was sooo sick! He hoped I would never smoke again. It worked for awhile and then I picked it back up and smoked off and on until I was 19 and quit - never touched them, again.
The day I went to tell my dad I was pregnant at 19 with my now ex-husband in tow, was a dreadful day. My dad turned his controlled but direct anger towards him, which wasn't necessarily fair, but he was 8 years older than me and I think it hurt Dad too much to believe it was "my" fault. I won't go into details here about that event but I moved out of the house after that and my parents did not attend my wedding. It would be six months before we were together again, after that day.
While most girls are escorted down the aisle by a smiling father and given away to the man they love, I found out years later that my dad was lying in bed, shaking, hanging onto the rails behind his bed, in agony, that he had "let me down" in not raising me in church and to "know better." As I was crying on my way down the aisle, not because I was happy but because I knew I didn't love this man but believing I had to do the "right" thing and because my family was not there with me. I realized my choices had killed my little girl's dream. My mom told me years later that she and my grandmother were watching across the parking lot. It was a dark day but I had made my bed and was determined to lie in it, which I did for 18 years. Dad should have realized he had taught me that, by example. :)He could not attend, in good conscience, because of the fact that my ex-husband had been married before, causing me to commit adultery and because I was pregnant out of wedlock. Somehow, I was never angry at Dad for this. I knew what my dad believed and didn't really expect anything different. Right or wrong, my dad was a man who stood by what he believed and he believed, in his heart, he could not give me his blessing. He was heartbroken and so was I....
Remembering you, Daddy!
To be continued.
Still Climbing,
Cher
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