As a dating/engaged/newly married couple we spent lots of time dreaming about our first house. And our dream house. Of course life does what it does and alters what you think you want. Or what you need. Or what you can afford. We were privileged to buy a darling starter home that served us well for six years as we grew our family from one child to three children. Then we were beyond blessed to build a large home on the lot next door to our very best friends! A place we lived in and loved for eight years.
When we moved to our current house, seven years ago, it was where we needed it to be and functional enough to serve our family. It isn’t our dream home, to be sure, but we knew it was right. We’ve been happy here, even in the frustrations of an older home. But as our children are starting to move out and move on, suddenly we find ourselves dreaming of houses again. Looking longingly at real estate websites and floor plans. Talking about wish lists and color schemes and architectural styles. About a spaced designed for us, not for accommodating children and their needs.
It’s funny. I’d somehow imagined that kind of dreaming as playground of the young, not the old. But the dreaming seems to have breathed new life, new excitement into our changing world. The dreaming has kept us connected, kept us from feeling quite as old as we are getting to be. It isn’t as if we are going anywhere soon. We know that. But we want to be ready when the Lord says, “Now.”
Until then, we dream. For I’ve realized that to stop dreaming–whether of houses or careers or ministry opportunities or experiences–is to check out of life. And I have no intention of doing that, no matter how many years I live on this earth!