Once a Dreamer, Always a Dreamer

I’ve always been a little different. For as long as I can remember, I’ve tried to see the silver lining in everything, and the good in everyone. Some called me naïve, others called me lost. 

When you’re a child growing up in the projects and you still dream of fairy tales, people start to think that something is wrong with you. 

I blame books. 

“Bored? Read a book.”

That was my mother’s answer to everything. Our shelves were filled with books and we always (for some reason) had a book report due. Reading books became an escape. I escaped the pissy smell of the elevators and was able to ignore the blaring sirens I heard outside my window. 

The characters in the stories I read were real. They were sad and happy and experienced joy and pain. I read about girls that looked like me and conquered mountains despite everything that was against them. Every weekend I walked 12 blocks to the library just to be the first one in. The librarians knew me by name. It was no surprise to my mom when I brought home Yankee tickets for winning the Summer Library Contest, or the radio from school for reading 100 books. I rocked the nickname ‘book worm’ like I was born with it. 

Well, I eventually grew up. 

However, somehow that little girl still lives inside. Even with a husband, and children, a career, and many other things on my plate. . . I dream.  

I dream of giving books to children in need and educating women about the importance of reading to their baby bumps and beyond. I dream of reading Amazing Grace by Mary Hoffman to a little girl born to a teenage mother and telling her she can STILL be anything she puts her mind to. I dream of teaching that teenage mother how to read and bond with her babies. I dream of holding book drives. I dream of a day where the number of prison beds are no longer determined by 3^rd grade reading scores. I dream of cycles being broken. I dream of boys on the laps of their fathers being read stories about the oceans and great lands.  I dream of driving a book mobile. Yes, a book mobile! I dream of bedtime stories read to fatherless children. I dream of future dreamers that will eventually change the world. 

I know that there are many crazy ideas in my head, but all great things start that way. I had an idea to beautify the dump behind my building in the Bronx when I was 14. That idea turned into a letter to the Mayor. That letter turned into a response. That response turned into a one thousand dollar grant to plant a garden. 

I read about the promise that God made Abraham this past weekend. Abraham couldn’t believe he would have so many children and father nations at such an old age. He even laughed at God. I was reminded that God sees more in me than I could ever imagine. My ideas are in my heart for a reason. I plan on writing them down, praying over them, and putting God first. Many of them may happen and others probably won’t. It’s the first step that matters. The small steps lead to giant leaps over time. My prayer is that He uses me as He needs me. 

“The purpose of life is not to be happy. It is to be useful, to be honorable, to be compassionate,  to have it make some difference that you have lived and lived well.” –Ralph Waldo Emerson

What have you been dreaming of lately?

Until we land again,

Jeanell