Memories and Dreams

Ryan works in health care, which means he doesn't always get holiday weekends. He works at a rehab hospital, and patients have to be seen 365 days a year. And so it was, that this past holiday weekend, I spent a lot of time home alone while he worked every day but Sunday.

It was a lovely weekend. LOVELY. I had the perfect mix of work and fun...and while I would have loved more time spent with Ryan...I appreciated every moment I had on my own.

One of my projects was to start {yes...a year and a half later...START} our reception scrapbook. Turns out once I got going on the thing, I couldn't stop, and I did all sixty-some pages of that book in one day FLAT.

I loved reliving the moments. All of them. Like the one where Ryan actually hauled our deep freeze from our house to the reception site so we could keep our 15 gallons of pre-dipped ice cream cups cold until it was time to serve.

Or like the moment when, while we showed the video of our ceremony, I slid over to the gift table and stole two cards so Ryan and I could fan ourselves, because we were SO WARM in that room.

Or like the moment when one of our bridesmaids, Sara, could barely contain her excitement, because she got to meet LYNNE! LYNNE FORD! {That's what she kept saying...It's LYNNE! LYNNE FORD!}

They were good memories. Ones that made me smile as I transcribed the stories of the pages of the scrapbook.

Later in the weekend, I looked through some of my older scrapbooks, just for fun. Just to remember what I'd forgotten.

I looked at the book of my vacation to Virginia Beach in May 2010 - smack in the middle of my heart's desert. I hadn't been sure I was capable of traveling by myself in such a heartsick state.

I smiled at the first picture of me with the ocean. It was the first time I had ever seen any ocean, and it was the first time in WEEKS a genuine smile had crossed my lips.

I giggled at the picture my best friend took of me with the giant shell on the boardwalk. Right when she snapped it, some guy sat down on the other side, and it kind of looked like I'd smashed him.

And I remembered the feeling of relief when I made it safely home to my sister's house {she ran me to and from the airport}. I had actually accomplished a hard thing, and I was so proud of myself!

Good memories...hard memories...but all preserved as a testament to the work God had done in my heart!

I didn't just relive the past while Ryan was rehabbing patients. I did a fair amount of dreaming for our future. Pinterest and I spent more than a few hours together while I mentally designed our someday house and imagined everything from paint colors to furniture placement.

I dreamed about ministries we might be part of and entertaining we might do in our home. I brainstormed book ideas and Bible study topics and anything else I could think to ponder.

Memories and dreams do a lovely dance. They take you back to a place and time you've already walked and give you the confidence to walk ahead into an unknown. To be reminded that joy can be found in the places of deepest heartache and that celebrations are never perfect, but they're always worth giving honor to the reason for the celebration.

How I love them both...the memories and the dreams. And as I glide through this life and more dreams come true and take their places in the scrapbooks of my life, I'm just so very grateful for the God Who has walked with me in the deserts and over the mountain tops!