when it's time to give up your dreams

                           I think I may be ready to give up on a dream.  This is a dream that I have intensely wanted for a long time. I have worked very hard to achieve it and have nearly exhausted all of my “next steps.”  So in an effort to reckon with reality, I’m giving up.  I think it may be time.

                When I told my husband this the other day, he said, “No – don’t give up!  We’ll pray about it!” (Because sometimes when you want something long enough, you stop really praying about it when you stop believing it’s going to happen.)  I understand why he responded the way he did.  He knows how much I want this.  He knows how hard I’ve worked.  And he probably has an idea of what comes next.  When you give up on a dream you enter into a process of loss.

 

                About a year ago one of the women in our community group from church (we call ourselves “The Tribe”) announced that she was giving up on her dream of becoming a school administrator.  After working as an interim assistant principal and loving it, Laurie had worked very hard to get into a district program to become an administrator.  She had even gone back to school and earned a doctorate degree in educational leadership.  She did everything she could to prepare herself for what she felt passionately about doing, and she felt confident about her qualifications.

                She didn’t make it into the program.  When she told us she was giving up on her dream, several of us protested, “No!  You’ve worked too hard on this!”  But she had already begun the unavoidable grieving process involved in the death of a dream.  She talked to us that night about surrendering and finding peace.

               We are supposed to tell our 

children to never give up on their dreams and that they can accomplish anything they set their minds to.  And yet I’m wondering if that will set them up well for real life?  My child may want to be a contestant on The Voice, but it may not happen.  My daughter may have her heart set on a particular college, but it may not pan out.  I have friends who have had to give up careers because of illness and homes because of financial hardship.  Maybe the more important thing we need to teach our children (and learn for ourselves) is how to hold up our dreams with open hands and live in a posture of surrender.  This dream of mine may be something I’ve wanted more than anything I’ve ever wanted, but if I am truly surrendering it to God, there is a flexibility instead of a rigidity.  There is an attitude, from the very beginning, that says, “I know what I want.  But more than that, I trust that God knows what is best for me, and that may look slightly or vastly different than my dream.”

                Our family enjoys watching American Ninja Warrior, and I love hearing the athletes’ stories just as much as I love watching them navigate the incredibly challenging obstacle courses.  Some of these competitors have given up jobs to pursue their dream of becoming the next American Ninja Warrior.  Some of them admit that they are so desperate to win, they don’t know what they’ll do if they don’t make it.  It’s painful to see these competitors fall off the salmon ladder or lose their grip off of the swinging spikes, because you get a sense of just how devastated they feel when they hit the water below.  And often they are asked the same questions afterward.  “Will you be back?  Will we see you here next year?”  In other words, are you ready to give up on your dream?

                I think the truly victorious ones are those who, in the face of dashed dreams, find a way to live out their passion doing what is possible and within reach in the here and now.  In their reckoning with reality, they find the courage to let go of a specific dream while holding on to a bigger vision.

 

                The producer of American Ninja Warrior calls Brent Steffensen and Kacy Catanzaro “the royal couple of ‘Ninja Warrior’”.  They both have broken records on the show and their mutual passion for ANW led them into a dating relationship.  Along with competing several times on ANW, they are currently working to open a training facility in San Antonio, TX.  As Kacy stated, “As long as “American Ninja Warrior” is not holding us back from other things we want to accomplish, we want to keep doing it.”  And despite this season’s disappointment (of not making it through the ANW course), Steffensen said he has his dream job.  He may come back and compete again, and if he does he will either fail again or break a record, but either way he is living a bigger dream.  He’s living a dream that taps into the core of who he is.

 

                Back to my friend Laurie.  She is as passionate as ever about teaching and educating children, and about leading other educators.  And she says this past year has been surprisingly peace-filled.  “I’ve learned a lot about myself, how much I was striving to make things happen, and how I pressured myself to make my dream come true.  I was carrying my dream like the way you carry a grudge.  It became heavy and I just kept lugging it around with me.  When your dream becomes a burden, it’s time to lay it down.”

                Laurie teaches fifth grade.  She is a department head and has exceptional leadership skills.  She chose not to reapply for the district program, and she has taught me a lot about what it looks like to surrender a dream that has become a burden.

                My dream is to publish a book.  Not just a book, but a specific story.  I have a polished proposal that I’ve spent hours writing and revising.  I have attended writers’ conferences and have had my work professionally critiqued.  I have followed up on nearly every lead, and the feedback has been consistent.  “Your writing is good.  You tell your story in a compelling way.  Your platform is not big enough.  We wish you great success and hope you find a home for your manuscript.”

                We hope you find a home for your manuscript.  My manuscript is homeless.  But I am not hopeless.  I may decide it’s time to let this dream go.  I may try a little bit longer.  I may decide to take a different route to get my book published.  But either way, I am living a bigger dream.  Either way, I can still tell my story.  Along with writing, I speak regularly at local women’s groups on topics I am passionate about, and I love it.  I am a communicator, and I am living a life consistent with who I am – with who God made me to be.

 

                As a parent, I will always be my kids’ biggest cheerleader, and I will encourage them to go boldly in the direction of their dreams.  But I also want to teach them – and model for them – how to hold their dreams loosely, with open hands and a surrendered heart.  I want to teach them how to know when it’s time to give up on a dream that has become a burden, and how to figure out what is underneath that dream that taps into the core of who they are. 

      

                From the very beginning of our journey, we can entrust our greatest dreams to the God who knows what is best – to the God who knows us best.   

The Power of a Mother's Voice

Not long ago, I found myself walking in circles

inside a Walgreen's. I went in because I wanted to buy

a couple of sympathy cards for friends, but I ended up

avoiding the card aisles because they were filled with

Mother’s Day cards.

This is my first Mother’s Day without

my mom. People say that when you lose

someone you love, the firsts are the hardest

— the first birthday, the first Christmas,

the first Mother’s Day. Last year at

this time I was terrified that my mom

would not survive her recently diagnosed

cancer, and this year that fear is

my reality.

After finding a couple of cards near

an end cap, I wandered over to the Easter

candy aisle thinking that some chocolate

might make me feel better. That’s when I saw the

marshmallow Peeps. Those were my mom’s favorite,

and I always bought them for her at Easter. Now they

have hollow milk chocolate eggs with a marshmallow

Peep inside: my mom would have loved that.

Before my mom died, she said things like, “I will

always be a part of you” and “You’ll always have me in

your heart.” I couldn’t imagine then what it would be

like to not have her here anymore, but my relationships

with my daughters help me to understand what

she meant when she said those things.

When my youngest daughter was in kindergarten,

she went through a phase where she felt disproportionately

guilty after she had done something wrong.

Her dad and I were over it, her sisters were over it, but

she couldn't get past her guilt—she couldn't move

on. She would say, “There is just this voice in my head

telling me I’m bad, that I never do anything right,

that I’m not good.” Finally, I thought to ask her whose

voice it was in her head telling her these things. She

looked at me like the answer was obvious.

“You!” she said. I laughed and cringed at the same

time. I had never said those things to her, but she had

picked up on my frustrations and disappointments,

and that translated into negative self-talk spoken in

my voice. It was a good reminder that as a mom, my

voice is powerful.

We joke about hearing our mothers’ voices in our

heads, and when we are younger that may feel more

like a curse than a blessing. But we are lucky if over

time that curse turns into a blessing as her voice

becomes a part of us.

In pretty much any given moment, if I quiet myself,

I can imagine what my mom would say to me. I can

still hear her voice, feel her love. Now I know what she

was trying to tell me.

Our oldest is learning how to drive, and in a few

short years she will be leaving for college. Sometimes I

look at her — in some ways she is like me and in other

ways she is so different—and I know it’s happening.

In the day-to-day mothering, I am becoming a part of

her and she, well, she has always been a part of me. It

is what it means to be a mother.

My mom, Carol Stephens.  1941-2013

I think I will go back to the store and walk directly

to the Mother’s Day card aisle. Even though it will be

hard, I will search until I find the card that best says

what my mom means to me, and then I will walk to

the check-out and buy it. And even though I don’t

care for them, I might even buy a package of marshmallow

Peeps — I think I’ll hear my mom’s laugh

when I do.

• Becky Baudouin lives in the Northwest suburbs with her

husband and their three daughters.

reprinted from the Daily Herald, April 16, 2014 

faith

Not long ago, I heard a song on Christian radio, and the chorus says this about faith:

It’s gotta be

More like falling in love

Than something to believe in

More like losing my heart

Than giving my allegiance

        My kids were in the room when the song came on, and my knee-jerk reaction was to tell them that this is not true.  Faith in God - living the Christian life - is not a feeling.  It is most definitely not like falling in love. I thought about Paul being knocked off his horse and blinded for three days when he encountered Christ.  I thought about the disciples – most of them were martyred for their devotion to Jesus.  And I’m thinking about the situation in North Korea where Kim Jong-un has ordered the execution of thirty-three Christians.  Faith is most definitely something - Someone - to believe in, and it is absolutely about giving your allegiance.

        I think it is misguided and even dangerous to compare or equate our faith to falling in love, and it tells me that our Hollywood culture (which is obsessed with falling in love) has shaped our faith life in profound ways.  I am not saying that we cannot or should not feel intense love for Christ, or that we will not have amazing experiences where we feel God’s presence and feel intimately connected with Him.  But real faith is not based on those feelings or experiences.

  

Here is what the bible says about faith:

Hebrews 11:1

Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, 
the evidence of things not seen.

 (King James Version)

        My husband, Bernie, and I attended a funeral on December 30th that truly broke our hearts.  A couple that we have known for several years lost their adult son – he took his life on Christmas morning.

        This couple is now attending the same grief support workshop that I am, and Bernie and I walked into church with them not long ago.  I asked them if the workshop was helping them at all, and the man, who was walking in front of me, threw his arms up in the air and just kept walking.  His wife, who was walking beside me, said, “You know, maybe it helps some to talk to other parents whose children have taken their lives - we are just here because it is the next step we know how to take.”

        We walked together into the worship service; they went to sit with their group, and Bernie and I grabbed a couple of seats near an aisle.  From where we were, I had a straight line of vision to where they were seated in the auditorium.  The music started, and as we sang about our God being a God who saves, I couldn't take my eyes off of them.  They were on their feet, singing in full voice, and I could see the intensity of both their pain and their conviction in their bodies as they worshiped their God.  In their unspeakable grief they were singing to the God who saves.  The God who saves them, the God who saves their son.  And I thought, this is what faith looks like.

Now faith is assurance of things hoped for, a conviction of things not seen. 

(American Standard Version)

        I am studying the book of Job in my community bible study, and my small group was discussing the theme of Job.  He was an upright man, and yet God allowed Satan to take everything from him: his children; his wealth; even his health.  Some say this story is about suffering – particularly unjust suffering.  Others say that it is about God’s sovereignty – He created the universe and His ways and thoughts are higher than ours.  He doesn't owe us an explanation – He is God.

        And yet when I read about Job scratching his sores with broken pottery, listening to his friends go on and on about how there must be some unconfessed sin in his life, listening to his wife tell him to curse God and die already, I am moved beyond words to hear Job say, “Shall we accept good from God, and not trouble? The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised.” In his humanity, Job questioned and struggled.  And I can’t help but think, this is what faith looks like.

Faith makes us sure of what we hope for 
and gives us proof of what we cannot see. 
(Contemporary English Version)

        When my mom was diagnosed with terminal cancer, she was believing God for a miracle.  But she told us early on, “Either way, though, I’m in a win-win situation.  If I live through this I win more time with my family.  If I die, I know I am going to be with the Lord.”  She put her faith and trust in God, not in an outcome.  This is what deep, abiding faith looks like.

The fundamental fact of existence is that this trust in God, this faith, 

is the firm foundation under everything that makes life worth living. 

It’s our handle on what we can’t see. The act of faith is what 

distinguished our ancestors, set them above the crowd. 

(The Message)

All of these people are examples to me of what it looks like to walk by faith, not by sight: 

• Taking one step forward even when you can’t see where you are going

• Believing in God’s unfailing love and goodness even through life’s darkest trials 

• Worshiping God in the midst of crushing grief and loss

• Holding on to the promise that He will see us through, and that heaven waits for us

  Ahora bien, la fe es la certeza de lo que se espera, 

la convicción de lo que no se ve. 

(La Biblia de las Américas)

Let us walk by faith, not by sight, and may our children see in us examples of real, abiding faith.

what my mom taught me about living and dying

               Life has taken a turn.  Like when you’re driving and you make an abrupt, hard turn- things go flying.  Sliding dreams, falling tears, and spilling emotions, like coffee from a mug.

 

                My mom, Carol Louise Stephens, went to heaven on July 2^nd.  She had been in the hospital for several days, her health deteriorating, and there was this moment when she understood and accepted the reality that she was dying.  Then she did all she could to help me and my siblings come to terms with it too.  Impossible, but her incomprehensible joy and contagious peace helped us as we walked her to heaven’s door.

                Now I’m on an unfamiliar road.  I didn't plan this turn.  I've never traveled on this path before.  And sometimes I feel lost.  These are the times people are referring to when they say, “Your faith will see you through.”

                My mom’s faith was real.  And it definitely saw her through the last seven months of her life.  When she was diagnosed with cancer the week of Thanksgiving, 2012, our family was devastated.  We didn't know which way things would go, but in the months that followed, as my mom went through chemo and radiation, tests and scans, her faith shone more brilliantly than ever.  Early on she told me, “I am going to be OK.  I am going to be around for a long time.  But no matter what happens, either way, I’m in a win-win situation.  If I live through this, I win more time with my family.  If I die, I win eternity with my Savior.”

                She fought hard to beat cancer, and she did.  She fought hard to get well.  But she did not fight death when it came because she believed that God is in control.  She trusted His timing.  She was in tune with her body and in tune with her Maker, and when she realized that He was bringing her home, she did not resist.  She declared, a few hours before she passed, “What a beautiful day that the Lord has made!”  It was the day of her homecoming.  She surrendered, telling us, “I've taught you how to live, now I want to teach you how to die.  I want you to see that you don’t have to be afraid.”

                I expected that it would be incredibly hard, and it was.  But I didn't expect it to be beautiful in a way I can’t even describe.  It reminded me, in some mysterious way, of childbirth.  The progression, the anxious waiting, asking the doctors, “How long?”, the passing from one home to another; my siblings and I witnessed my mom being born into heaven. 

                “Though our bodies are dying, our spirits are being renewed every day.                 For our present troubles are small and won’t last very long.  Yet they produce for us a glory that vastly outweighs them all and will last forever!  So we don’t look at the troubles we can see now; rather, we fix our gaze on things that cannot be seen.  For the things we see now will soon be gone, but the things we cannot see will last forever.”  

2 Corinthians 4:16-18 (NLT)

               

        Those last days with my mom were lived in another realm, somewhere between this life and the next.  Moments like these have a way of reshaping your perspective and strengthening your faith – bringing to the forefront the mysterious and the eternal.  I believe in God and in heaven.  I believe that because of His amazing love for me – because He sent His son, Jesus, to take my punishment and to die in my place – that I am forgiven.  Because Jesus lives again, I will live again, too.  What an indescribable gift!  Someday I too will be with Him, and I will see my mom again.  I believe in After Life.

                But now I am living in the “Life After”.  Life after the sickness and the trial.  Life after losing my mother.  I brought home some of her things: some beautiful pieces from her china cabinet, her desk, and her chair.  And for the first several days I moved the items around in my house, from room to room, trying to find a place for them, to make them fit.  Trying to make it feel right.  It mimicked the movement in my heart.  Life doesn't feel right after you lose someone so precious to you.  You work to accept the change.  You try on the new reality, but it doesn't fit.

                People keep telling me to take care of myself, and it’s good advice.  I am figuring out what that looks like for me.  I am taking more walks.  I'm trying to remember to drink lots of water.  I registered for a grief support workshop at my church.  I am cleaning out my house and re-decorating my bedroom.  I like the distraction and I like being able to call the shots, to have control over an outcome.  I like creating something fresh, new, and beautiful.

 

               I wake up each morning and for a couple seconds I struggle to accept the truth that my mom is no longer here.  I can’t call her today – I can’t hear her voice.  I can’t ask her advice or hear her laugh.  And it hurts every time.  But then I think about the way my mom lived and died – with absolute trust in her Lord.  I remember her words, “You don’t have to be afraid.”  And I want to live this way.  I want to walk with Jesus and love Him more. Because He will see me through whatever comes my way.  He will hold me steady when life takes some hard turns.  And at the end, though I may be surrounded by beloved family and friends, the person that will carry me from this life to the next is my Creator.

 

                “No guilt in life, no fear in death, this is the power of Christ in me;

                From life’s first cry to final breath, Jesus commands my destiny.

                No power of hell, no scheme of man, can ever pluck me from His hand;

                Till He returns or calls me home, here in the power of Christ I’ll stand.”

                                                                                (lyrics, In Christ Alone)                            http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ENtL_li4GbE)

                My mom had a way with people.  She was bold but not pushy.  She cared enough to pry, but was not intrusive.  She introduced many people to Christ, and just a few hours before she passed I saw her grab a nurses hand, look her in the eye, and ask, “Do you know Jesus?”  She just didn't want anyone to be without Him.

  

                How about you?  Do you know Jesus?  Have you experienced what it is like to be fully known and completely loved?  Have you found a joy that doesn't depend on your circumstances, and a peace that is impossible to understand or explain?  Can you imagine no guilt in life, and no fear in death?  Do you know Him?  The One who gave everything for you and loves you more than you could ever imagine?  1 Timothy 2:4-6, "God wants all people to be saved and to come to a knowledge of the truth. 5 For there is one God and one mediator between God and mankind, the man Christ Jesus,6 who gave himself as a ransom for all people."

                Thank you, Mom, for showing me how to live and how to die.

                Thank you friends, for praying for my mom and our family during this journey. 

                Thank you, Lisa, for encouraging me to write again. 

                Thank you, Jesus, for your abiding presence, comfort, and strength, and for giving                   me everlasting life.