Dreaming Big and Seeing the Small

My kids like to dream big.

My oldest would like a vacation, but most definitely not in the USA.  Forget the beach. She wants to travel to London (of course, this has nothing to do with her like of…obsession over….the British band One Direction).

My son wants to be a professional soccer player, and if that doesn’t work out, he’ll try for the president.

And why not?

And my youngest wants to be a piano playing artist…who can fly.

I appreciate their big dreams and desires maybe because it feels so familiar to hear them.  I grew up with a dad who tended to think “big.”

I remember walking around the property that would eventually be the home for our church family. He walked briskly and with a huge smile on his face:  “This, this, is a place where God will do great work.  I believe it.”  The property seemed way too big for our group of believers.

Our church planting group was 300 people, and on the first SundayGod saw fit to bring nearly 800.

And there were times when Dad’s dreaming seemed crazy, but we went with it.  My Dad used to do a short devotional broadcast-ed on KMOX radio on Christmas mornings at the Buck’s house, a well known St. Louis family of broadcasters.  After a couple of years of doing this, Dad suggested my sisters and I attended with him.

Were we invited? Not per say, but that’s OK!   And, why don’t we also ask Stan Musial  if he would play the harmonica while we sang.  A quartet with Stan Musial on the radio.  He thought his idea was fabulous.

And we laughed.  Mostly because…..well, who does that?  Who approaches Stan the Man for a little musical performance?  My dad.  Think big.  Think singing with one of the most famous Hall of Fame Cardinal players of all time.  Why not?

The song is not recorded because my dad was too excited to video tape it.  He put his camera down and clapped along.  But here is a little glimpse of what happens when we joined with dad in dreaming big:

Dreaming big is ingrained in my soul.  But there was something else important I learned from my big- dreaming dad:  It’s essential to see and enjoy the little things in life.

Ice cream wasn’t just ice cream to my dad.  It was a heavenly treat that was to be savored and enjoyed on a nightly basis.  Playing cards on a quiet night on the deck and playing for the win (and only for the win) brought him as much enjoyment as meeting Stan the Man.  And finding the perfect parking spot for a perfect getaway on the 4th of July was almost as exhilarating as the fireworks themselves.

More recently I have come to savor the small blessings that are ever present.  These small blessings may be unrecognizable to those around me, and might be easily missed if I’m not careful to experience them for what they truly are.  But when my youngest writes me a card asking me if I’m ready for valentines (in other words, is the candy stashed appropriately), I take a few minutes to relish in her innocence. Because through her eyes, I can be reminded of how far reaching love can actually be.

And when she draws a picture of the paralyzed man whom Jesus healed and it comes complete with the man’s own hot tub and swimming pool, I’m not dreaming of the day it will show up in an art gallery, but I’m savoring her creative (and sometimes ridiculous) imagination.  Because in it there is so much laughter for us all.

I love the rare moments when instead of fighting, my son and my youngest daughter wrestle and laugh, even when one is nearing a trip to the ER.  It’s the incessant description from my son of the intricacies of Minecraft, as well as the look on my oldest’s face (there may or may not be tears) when One Direction is on TV, that remind me of how precious this life is that God has given me.
These little things don’t make life easier and they certainly don’t erase the difficult, but they are glimpses, perhaps even more so than the big, fulfilled dreams in my life, of the beauty that surrounds me.
Last week, while in her apartment, my mom took my hand to walk back to her bed.  Barely able to walk anymore, she held on to my hand so tightly that it started to hurt.  But I will never forget those thirty seconds.  To an outsider, it was a moment that was as insignificant as walking from one room to another.  But to me, it was a beautiful, little moment.  My mom, whom I trusted when I was little to protect me from thunder, now trusted my stability to not let her fall.
This is life.  This is beauty.  This is grace.  And it is so often found in these small moments.
No longer able to bathe or take care of herself, I watch my step father cater to her every need without complaint or frustration.  It is the living out of “in sickness and in health” like I’ve never seen before. No one else may notice his Parkinson-ridden hands cutting her food so she can swallow, but I take in those moments and watch.  Because this small gesture is a picture of true and committed love.

My six year old asked me last week why we can’t “reconnect YaYa’s brain and just make it all better?” I don’t have answers for her, and I probably never will, but her question led to a sweet but short conversation about God’s love, even when things are bad, which is why we should keep loving, even when it’s tough.

So on Sunday when I watched my daughter embrace her grandma in a wheel chair instead of shying away from her quickly changing earthly body, I knew the importance of that hug – for both of them.
This small hug was a reminder to me of God’s unconditional and unrelenting love.

Dream big, my sweet kiddos.  Dream far and big.  But don’t miss the little beauties around you.  It’s in these small blessings that we often see Jesus.  And there can be nothing greater than that.  


 

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1 Comment


  1. ·

    I'm catching up on your blog posts, Katie, and God knew I needed to read this one today! Thank you for the reminder that the Lord gives us beauty & grace every day, in the midst of difficult things, and that in our attentiveness to it, we will find Him with us in deeper ways than we realized.

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