While perhaps not as dramatic as Out of Africa, our
dreams of the past can be just as powerful if seen through a redemptive eye. My
seaside dream lasted five years.
I had a home by the sea near where the Cooper
River and the Ashley River meet to embrace the beautiful city of Charleston,
South Carolina.
My writing room overlooked a meandering creek that wandered
through marshland until at last it flowed into the vast Atlantic. Palmetto
fronds scraped against my window on a breezy day and framed a view of snowy
white egrets as they slowly waded along the muddy creekside foraging for food. At
night I was lulled to sleep by the soft rasping sound of the ducks two-noted
call.
Each morning, I would walk my little dog to our small
village and stand in line at the French bakery. Scents of freshly baked bread
mingled with the salty scent of the sea and soothed my soul.
The year I said goodbye to my seaside home, two graceful
swans took up residence on the creek. They’d gracefully slide across the water
looking for food, but would always return at dusk to the shore beneath my
window, where I would rest knowing they were together and safe.
We’re told to not live in the past, but, if lessons are
learned well, the past can weave into our present and future and bring both
wisdom and memories of a life well lived. We'll see how God knew that we would need
the joy of yesterday to bring a smile to today. Looking back, we'll remember that
we braved the odds and pursued the dream of our heart. Leaving it behind isn’t
failure but wisdom in knowing that it is time to move on to another journey—one
where visions are not as clear and the advantages do not seem as great. We are
embarking on a new dream, still seen through a vapor but one day will be as
clear as the Carolina sky on a bright moonlit night.
