dreams come true, not free

I heard this quote yesterday and knew it was one that would stick with me.

Dreams often come with a price, and almost always with lots of hard work, blood, sweat, and maybe even some tears. I think that's what makes dreams so precious to us.

The elements of sacrifice and perseverance that it takes to breathe life into a dream is what builds character in us. And it takes character to care for the dream once it is realized. One without the other would be a virtual see-saw, never quite achieving balance.

Yesterday I posted on grace, on how God brought me to a face-to-face encounter with it when I was twenty-four. That was the night when I found out for myself that my imperfections and my weaknesses weren't a turn-off to God. He loved me profoundly in spite of them and, to my surprise, promised to use those very imperfections for good.

I didn't quite understand everything at the time. I was merely trying to make it through each day, slowly learning to find joy in the small things even when life loomed too large for me to handle. I learned the difference between happiness and joy and that joy was a decision and I could choose each and every day to live a joyful existence.

That period in my life was a literal awakening. In spite of all the things that could have been counted as negatives back then, I have to say that I have such fond memories of that time. I was like a child who'd suddenly grasped a basic concept in a school room, suddenly the proverbial light bulb came on and I got it. I began to soak up the Word of God in a whole new way. I couldn't get enough. It was like each and every word had been penned just for me. For just that time.

I learned to really pray. Now it was all about just having a conversation with God. It was, and is, truly that simple. Keeping the line of communication open - on the good days, on the bad days, and on the myriad of days that fell somewhere in between. Now that I knew He could see to the core of me anyhow, I wondered how I'd ever thought I was somehow fooling Him before when I wanted Him to only see the good in me.

I was His child and He loved me. Unconditionally. In spite of myself. That was my first encounter with real grace.

On the first Monday morning of January 2003, I sat down with a blank page in Word opened before me on my computer screen. Previous projects were complete and it seemed very apropos that I would be beginning a brand new story in a brand new year.

It would be Grace's story, and I'd known that much for some time. While I didn't have the roadmap yet of how Grace and I would navigate through her story, I did know the story would be one about grief, forgiveness, and the road to grace.

Over the next seven months I wrote a story that I believe will always hold a special place in my heart. It was during this book that God took me to the next level of my discovery of grace. Often I would wake up, my stomach tense and nervous, because I literally had no idea what would or should happen next in the story and no clue on how to get there.

Not knowing what else to do, I'd go to my knees seeking - no, make that begging - guidance and direction just to get through the next chapter. It was during those weeks and months that I learned to bleed onto the pages of my story. I'd go from the computer to my knees, and back again. Over and over and over...

As I worked through Grace's story, God began to open the eyes of my heart to truths I'd never seen before. I wrote this story with blind faith, and no one could be as surprised at the ending as I was! Let's just say that, when it was all said and done, I'd learned yet another lesson on grace.

One afternoon I had been working on a particularly difficult chapter about midway through the book. It was a pivotal place in the story and I knew it was essential that I get it right. But it was tough going. The subject matter was heavy, the emotion was high, and I felt very inept to convey the message I knew needed to shine through.

Somewhere along the way I moved from my desk. I sat in my office chair, with the laptop propped on my knees and my feet propped on my bed. I don't remember when or how or even why. In my mind I was at The Winds in Ocean Isle with Grace. She sat across a picnic table from Kyle, trying to summon the courage to tell him the one thing she'd tried her best to keep from him, and from their marriage. It could very well be the end of her life as she knew it. Everything depended on his reaction to it.

As I prayed my way through each and every painful sentence of this scene, God took Kyle (yes, I know he's merely a character, but God really did use him!) and showed me the next level of grace.

You see, Kyle had an established relationship with God. He'd tried Him countless times before and had found Him to be true. Through his own painful loss, he'd come to know God in deep and profound ways. Kyle had experienced the same thing I did years ago. He'd had his own personal Bethel.

But Grace had not. Though she'd begun her faith walk a few years back, the baggage, hurt, and betrayal from her past were stumbling blocks in the road to forgiveness and healing where she needed to be. She loved God. She served Him. She just had no way of getting to that place of restoration under her own power.

Kyle, in spite of his own shock and pain at her words, allowed God to use him as a bridge. He stood in the gap, one hand holding tightly to Grace, the other holding even tighter to the Almighty. Grace couldn't get there on her own, but she could cling to someone who was already there and they could become her lifeline.

I emerged from that scene in tears and, again, changed. It may sound silly because it's just a story and, maybe, that's how God can best teach me right now. I'm not sure. What I do know is that another set of blinders were removed from my spiritual eyes that afternoon.

I was made aware of the rows and rows of folks that line our church pews. Holy, righteous people who've overcome pasts filled with unspeakable hurts and wrongs. Yes, they live for God now and, yes, there is healing in God. But sometimes it takes years to reach a place of true restoration. True grace.

And that's when we can be a bridge. We can stand in the gap, holding tightly to our fellow brother or sister with one hand, and holding even more tightly to Jesus with our other.

__________________________

The picture above is of The Winds in Ocean Isle, North Carolina. Yes, it really does exist. Though I've never been there in person, I spent hours poring over their brochure - memorizing the layout of the beachfront property and studying the color palette of the rooms. I began to feel a true connection to this place and a longing to visit there.

When, on September 18, 2003, Hurricane Isabel impacted the northern Outer Banks of North Carolina, I prayed for these people I didn't even know and for a place I'd not yet been. Thankfully, "my place" remained in tact and relatively unharmed.

Shortly after that, I obtained permission from the owners to use their name in the story and it has been my plan all along to one day visit and, hopefully, be able to take a box of Saving Grace copies to these gracious people.

Which...brings me to an announcement...

...that I'll save for another day...

Comments

[Dawn]

I can't wait to read Saving Grace! I look forward to each new book you write, and now that you've shared a morsel, I am craving more!!!!