A Dream Come True

 

My mom has been playing piano for 73 years.

She started lessons when she was 8

And been playing ever since.

 

For as long as I can remember,

Daily piano playing has been part of my mom’s life.

I remember the Story and Clark in the dining room of the parsonage in Tabor City,

I remember it in the living room at the house on Forest Avenue, and

I remember it in the living room of the parsonage in Bunnlevel.

I remember getting the Yamaha Baby Grand when we moved into our current house,

And it is her joy to play it.

 

Two years ago this winter,

My mom invited a family friend into the house with his recording equipment.

Together, they recorded 17 of her favorite songs.

Because of various life circumstances,

Nothing happened with those 17 songs until a couple of months ago…

When the wheels of producing a CD finally began to turn.

 

With the help of my sister and another family friend,

My mom produced a very professional, top-notch CD.

My mom’s dream was to gift this CD to friends and family members

Who have encouraged her along the way.

 

Her dream came true yesterday when she gave away 30 physical CDs

And shared the web address to her online playlist with many others.   

 

I think what’s so special about my mom’s playing is that it’s not just playing.

It’s her heart.

And she has now shared that heart with the world,

 

To say that I am proud is an understatement.

I know of my mom’s hard work and her dedication to the craft,

And I know that she considers playing piano her highest act of worship.

 

I am blessed beyond measure to be the beneficiary of my mom’s practice,

And I consider it pure joy to have witnessed her concert yesterday

And to have seen the tears of humility and gratitude stream down her face.

 

…

 

One of my mom’s shirt’s says:

God grant me the serenity to accept things I cannot change,

Courage to change things when I can, and

Wisdom to know when to play the piano.

 

May I be so wise as my mom,

And use my talents for the betterment of others

And building of God’s kin-dom of Love.

 

Amen.

Long-Term Planning

What shuts you down?

What makes you come to a complete standstill?

For me, it’s long-term planning.

Something about it gets me every time I try.

 

When I first started teaching,

I didn’t write down my lesson plans until after I’d taught them.

This was back in the days when computers weren’t the norm,

So handwriting was the way that I wrote.

I didn’t want to write down something wrong—

Something that I didn’t actually do—and

I didn’t want to have to erase or add in things that changed,

So I didn’t write down anything until I had come up with a lesson that I liked.

That meant that I taught everything

Flying by the seat of my pants

And that my lesson plan book was more of a lesson journal.

 

When I returned to teaching,

I had a principal who forced me to write real lesson PLANS and

To turn them in the week before teaching them.

Thankfully, this was in the age of computers,

So if I wrote down something that I didn’t like

Or if I discovered something that needed tweaking,

Then I could easily change the document.

I remember the transition being very hard,

And I hated it.

But it is still what I do to this day.

 

I have lesson plans from every year of my teaching.

I look back on them for ideas and

Copy and paste the lessons that I really like

From year to year.

 

But sometimes I get bored of the lessons.

Or sometimes I want or need to teach new things.

And that requires writing new lessons

And sacrificing old lessons

And knowing when and where to do this is always so hard

So that’s why I need to long-term plan

And yet it shuts me down every time I try.

 

Oh God: Help me to face this strange fear and to come up with an outline for the year. We all have things that shut us down and bring us to a standstill. Help us to face those things with hope and courage and give us the ability to see what it’s like to move beyond the stand-still and into action. Help us to take life one step at a time and to know that we can do all things through you who give us strength. Amen.

 

I Want To Be An Uber

As part of a rhythm activity this week, my 2nd and 3rd graders shared their dreams for the future. If you want to know what’s on the radar screen of their little minds, then read on.

“I want to be a famous You-Tuber.”
“I want to be a gamer.”
“I want to be a Circle-K worker.”
“I want to be an Uber (driver).”
“I want to be a millionaire.”
“I want to be a doctor.”
“I want to be a teacher.”
“I want to be a vet.”
“I want to be a soccer player.”
“I want to be a military person.”
“I want to be a grown-up.”
“I want to be emo.”
“I want to be kind.”
“I want to go to Los Angeles.”
“I want to go to Hawaii.”
“I dream of no war.”
“We want no wild fires.”

As one of my 3rd grade groups worked today, they called me over to hear their work. Having already heard one of their hopes—in a correct rhythmic sentence!—I was looking forward to hearing another one. Instead, I walked over and heard this:

“We love you Miss Deaton.”

I must admit, I got a bit teary eyed. Their words were so unexpected—and the rhythmic sentence was so correct—that it took me a moment to respond. When I did, I changed the rhythm to make it say, “I love you, too.” When I walked away, the group was beaming. My heart was beaming, too.

Bubbling Home

Last week, with the help of a couple of friends, and over the course of two afternoons, I sorted through the prizes that I had compiled for my school’s school-wide art/writing challenge of the week.

Each Monday morning, we announce a new challenge of the week. On Friday, we announce the week’s winners.

In the process of prize-sorting, I found a bunch of small containers of bubble-stuff.

Naturally, this week’s challenge of the week was: Imagine that a bubble came down from the sky, picked you up, and took you anywhere in the world that you wanted to go, to do anything in the world that you wanted to do. Draw a picture of this adventure and write a little bit about it.

After a night of marathon baking for tomorrow’s First Friday Treats (we have teacher treats at my school on the first Friday of every month), I just sat down to read this week’s challenge answers. I’ve been smiling a lot since sitting down…and I’m currently wishing that a bubble really could come down and take my students where they want to go: the desert, New York City, on a taxi ride, Paris, to see a parent, Hollywood, the zoo, Disneyworld, the beach, home.

And here is the line that I love the most: “And if I was to do all that I would be excited, happy, and in a good mood. I just love when you can do all those things by a bubble.”

*I smile*

Folks. Bubbles may not really come down from the sky, pick us up, and take us away. But in our minds, we can dream. And in our dreams we can smile. And in our smiles, we can glimpse a bit of the beauty that life can be.

And another: “In conclusion, sometimes, wherever you go, sometimes you get excited, but, you miss home, too.”

*I smile again.*

Folks. Sometimes we will go places—though not by bubble of course—and we will be excited. But when it’s all said and done, in our dreams and in our smiles, it’s the beauty of home that holds our hearts. The homes we are given. The homes we make. The homes where we rest. The homes where we simply fit.

I just love when we can do all those things by a bubble.
And I love when that bubble feels like coming home.

If I Were Independently Wealthy

Yesterday during Nana Camp 2015’s afternoon of water games—after the sprinkler, water pistols, and water balloons—my across-the-street neighbor came over and asked if the kids and I wanted to go swimming in their pool. Naturally, we accepted the invitation.

As the kids swam and floated and played water-basketball, I talked with my neighbors and discussed life and ministry and how there are usually lots of people at their house. My neighbors commented that when they built the pool, they built it so that people would use it. They wanted their blessings to bless others. I commented that if I had a pool, then I would want the same.

Yesterday’s conversation caused my “What would I do if I were independently wealthy?” dream-list to resurface. I’m not even 100% sure that having a pool is on that list, yet if it were then I would definitely invite friends, family, and church members to use the pool frequently.

Here are the things that are definitely on my “What would I do if I were independently wealthy” list. There are others on the maybe list:

• Purchase a beach house (ocean-side), mountain house (next to a stream or waterfall), and lake house (lake-side) to be used as a retreat for ministers and their families, church women’s groups, and small-group school faculty/staff retreats when my family and friends aren’t using it. Include hot tubs, hammocks, swings, rocking chairs, rafts, kayaks, paddle boards, noodles, and all other necessary retreat equipment. Also include living space for permanent caretakers to tend the properties.

• Retire. Continue working part-time at a church or some type of ministry organization and volunteer as a chaplain in the public schools. I have no idea how the latter would happen; I have found no precedent for it. But it is my heart and passion, and I would do it in a heartbeat if I didn’t have to worry about “making a living.” I would most likely do more units of CPE or a residency while making this happen.

• Do something for my family members. I haven’t decided exactly what. Open savings accounts, travel, go on more cruises, pay off cars, homes, and/or college bills are ideas that I have thrown around.

• Visit major zoos and conservation centers around the world. Guests are encouraged and welcomed.

• Establish a scholarship fund. Or two. Or three. Or five.

• Give. A lot.

What about you, friends? What things are on your “What would I do if I were independently wealthy?” list. It may not ever happen, but it certainly doesn’t hurt to dream…and then go swimming.

At Least Until The Bell Rings

This morning, I had a student tell me about her dreams from last night. She dreamed that one monster was under her bed and that another was in the closet—both were big, black, and scary—with red, slanted eyes and sharp fangs for teeth. The monsters kept trying to eat her brother. Then her brother told me about his bad dream. He dreamed that his dad died.

I've seen Monsters Inc. It's actually one of my favorite movies. But somehow, I'd forgotten that kids still think that there are monsters in their closets and under their beds. Actually, I think I’d come to believe that modern American kids have outgrown being afraid of monsters because of Monsters Inc.’s ending and because of the fact that I’ve had numerous kids tell me that they laugh at scary movies.

So when I heard my students talking about their bad dreams and fear of monsters this morning, my heart broke. I wanted to scoop them into my arms and hug them and tell them that the monsters in their heads and under their beds aren’t real and that they don’t have to be afraid.

But I couldn’t do that.
The bell rang.
And they had to go to classes that I didn’t teach today.
And then they had to go home…thankfully to parents who are a steady presence in their lives and will, indeed, tell them that they are okay.

But what about the others? What about the students who don’t have steady parents to scoop them into their arms and tell them they are safe? What about the students who don’t have stable parents to help them know what is real and what is make-believe and what is in the grey in between?

Such were the questions on my mind when I began preparing the morning announcements, and such was the reason that the thought of the day was this:

Don't worry, little one,
You have nothing to fear.
Just take my hand and hold on tight
And know that I am here.

When your dreams at night get creepy,
When your thoughts scare you out of sleep,
Just take my hand and hold on tight
And know your heart I'll keep.

I love you seems so simple
Yet more passionate words seem few
So take my hand and hold on tight
And feel my love for you.

Don't worry, little one,
You have nothing to fear.
Just take my hand and hold on tight
And know that I am here.

I don’t know if anyone heard the thought of the day or not.
But I know I had to read it.
Because I know that all of us,
No matter how young or old,
rich or poor,
strong or weak,
quiet or loud,
Need to hear the words
“Don’t worry, little one,
You have nothing to fear.
Just take my hand and hold on tight
And know that I am here...”

Midmorning Daydream

Yesterday, the first prayer of my day was
for a friend with whom I haven't spoken in quite some time.
I had dreamed about her the night before.

Today, the first prayer of my day was
"May the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be acceptable in thy sight, oh Lord, my strength and redeemer."
I have no idea what I dreamed last night.
Which is weird.
I usually dream in active, vivid color.

Right now, the prayer of my heart continues to be the prayer of my morning as I
Daydream of a time when all of my students
(and my friend)
(and all persons everywhere)
will know they are (or can be) safely loved and that
(at least in my eyes) there is redemption and grace.

A Sunday Afternoon Pre-Camp Reflection

It’s amazing how quickly things change. One minute, I am fully engaged in the morning’s worship service; the next I am transported to a weekend in January that becomes the catalyst for one of the biggest, unexpected prunings of my life; the next I am sitting in a meeting preparing to chaperone youth camp.

Camp. I love camp. In fact, for the longest time, I held the secret desire to buy the land on which the camp that I love most in this world resides. I’d have had to have won the lottery or found someone independently wealthy to give the money in order to do this. But I wanted to donate a large sum of money to the organization that runs the camp and possibly have a needed building built and named after my family—not out of arrogance—but out of the true, deep love that I have for camp and the power that it has to impact lives.

I’m not going to that camp tomorrow. I was actually asked not to go to that camp this summer. But, I’m going to another camp. I was asked if I wanted to go to that one. I’ve never been. I’m not sure what to expect. But I’m excited for the opportunity. And I’m honored to have been asked to do something I love instead of being forced to walk away.

It’s amazing how quickly things change. One day, I am fully engaged in hopes and dreams for land and a future; the next the voice on the other end of the line questions call, work, and actions; the next I am sitting in my home-office surrounded by memories of a life now past, hoping for just $75 per month to give to my church and other ministries that love me just as I am.

I Really Don't Want My Teeth To Fall Out

I woke myself up screaming last night.

I was dreaming that my teeth were falling out and that I couldn’t do anything to stop them.

I’ve had similar dreams before—of teeth falling out—but that doesn’t make the dream any easier.

It’s a horrible feeling to have your teeth fall out. There’s nothing you can do to stop it. You’re helpless. Out of control. Aware that these are permanent teeth that are permanently falling out. Understanding that this is really, really bad but being paralyzed from doing anything about it.

Last night, just after my teeth began to fall out—mouthfuls at a time—my mouth immediately changed shapes and my speech immediately shifted. I didn’t know how I would eat. Or sing. Or do anything important to me. I was falling apart. Literally.

Yet those closest to me just laughed. They laughed!

And I woke up screaming.

Teeth falling out dreams are evidently very common. In fact, I just stumbled upon an entire website devoted to interpreting the dreams (http://www.teethfallingoutdream.org/dream-about-teeth-falling-out/). The site says that, “Despite the negative associations that dreams about teeth falling out conjure, a complete interpretation of this common teeth dream also gives insight about positive meanings.” It then lists five keys to interpreting teeth dreams:

• Dreams about teeth falling indicate times of change and feeling of loss;
• Positive meanings: starting something new, period of growth and development;
• Negative meanings: insecurity, ambivalence, cost of inaction or compromising;
• Teeth falling out are dream symbols of costly compromise, lack of balance, insecurity;
• The intensity of the emotions in the dream are a reflection of tension felt in real life.

I’m guessing I woke up screaming because I’m a big stress ball this week—because my dream was reflecting my tension in real life. Being out of the office for a couple of weeks was wonderful, but it has left me disorganized and behind and completely unbalanced in life. I don’t know how to balance work with family with friends with church with Sabbath with passion with pleasure with transparency with boundary with wisdom with honesty with calling with self with expectation with longing with God with faith with calling with rest with life. I wrote about transitions on Monday. I am in transition. I have experienced some degree of loss. I am insecure and somewhat unable to act because I feel quite overwhelmed and extremely tired. And so…

I dream about my teeth falling out and I wake up screaming.

“Come to me all you who are burdened and are tired. Come to me and I will give you rest. Take my easy yoke, and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble and mild. And you will find rest for your weary soul. Oh come to me.”

I’m coming, Jesus. With a mouth full of teeth and prayers for positive growth and development rather than the helplessness I felt in my dream last night, I’m coming…

Determined Dreamer

I spent a majority of my childhood at Tabor City Baptist Church. To this day, I dream about the halls and rooms of TCBC and feel certain that I could draw a floor plan if I were architecturally gifted.

I spent a majority of my early adulthood at Gentry Primary and Erwin Elementary Schools. I dream about each of these schools—my classrooms and huts—my students—and my Barb. Barb was my art teacher. We ate together, moved a lot of furniture together, produced performances together, made thousands of tie-dye t-shirts together, handed out fruit-cake together, ran down the halls of Gentry together, and pretty much lived our working lives together for 8 years.

I suppose that my dreaming about TCBC, Gentry, Erwin, and Barb could have a deeper meaning of unresolved issues and feelings or something else. I feel certain that if Dr. Brock is reading this, then he’s thinking beyond the surface of my dreams. But that’s not my focus today. My focus today is that I’ve been working in my sleep for the past few months and I’m therefore exhausted.

Take this morning, for example. I woke up late because I was determined to keep educating my students at Erwin about capitalism and human exploitation. There’s no way to write out the entire dream, but, in short, we had had an assembly—during which Barb and I sat in the back, giggled, and I wore no shoes—and I had decided to have my students write a poem or song about what they had learned. When we got to the classroom, however, we ended up debriefing the assembly and I tried to help my students visualize things, know how to use their imaginations, determine options for solving problems, compare something to a roller coaster, and understand capitalism as it related to dry erase boards vs. chalk boards.

In my dream, I guided the students to realize that the inventor of dry erase boards had created the need for them and thus wiped out (no pun intended) the need for chalk boards. In doing this, he forced schools to purchase new white boards, erasers, cleaner, and pens—the latter of which would easily run out, demand that schools constantly purchase new ones, and thus create hazardous trash that would fill landfills for thousands of years to come.

Each time I’d come close to making the connection to how this relates to human exploitation and what the students could do to stop it, a teacher would come get her class. During one period, entire families came with their students, but one family had left their baby at home because each parent thought the other had her. I assured them that the baby would be okay, that she was probably sleeping and didn’t even know she’d been left alone. So they went to get their baby, escorted by a childhood friend. And I taught. Through all six periods of the day, I taught. When I finally woke up, I realized that the teachers had been my alarm clock trying to get me out of bed.

There are days when I miss teaching. I miss the students and I miss the teachers. I miss the classrooms that I worked so hard to make quality learning environments and I miss the diversity of persons whom surrounded me. I miss singing and I miss music. But mostly, I miss my Barb.

I think it’s interesting that I spent last night teaching about human exploitation. It’s been a hard week. It’s been a week of heartache, division, slander, exposed lies, sadness, questions, judgment, and weaponry—God’s name being the biggest, most misused weapon of them all. I have doubted what I’m doing with my life and if my work and passions make any difference at all. I’ve felt overwhelmed and defeated more moments than not, and I’ve wept painful tears of brokenness and lost hope.

And yet…I dreamt of enduring friendship and the unwavering determination to educate about human exploitation—to educate about standing up for those who cannot speak for themselves. I dreamt of persevering when it would have been easier to give up. And I dreamt of jumping high enough to literally touch the ceiling and being surprised when my students told me that they didn’t start each day trying to do the same. I told them that they should—that it was fun!

Sometimes I struggle with the faith that was planted and nurtured at Tabor City Baptist Church. And sometimes I struggle with my call out of the public schools and into full-time vocational ministry. This week has been full of struggle. But I guess, at the end of the day, when I couldn’t see anything but four walls of limitation, my dreams showed their power and released me and gave me the strength—but not the peaceful sleep!—to go on.

Amen.

Baked Beans, Mr. Potato Head, Fair Maiden, and A Purr Box

Well, friends. She’s done it again. The sleep texter struck last night.

One minute I was reading and perfectly awake. The next minute I was asleep, only I didn’t realize it (as can be evidenced when I answer the question: are you still asleep). I suppose that my brain knew that I was having a conversation and that I hadn’t said good night—which I will do if I am having a conversation with you at night—I always like to end a conversation so that I know it’s over—so every time I woke up my brain evidently felt as if I needed to continue talking…and it just so happened that who I was talking to was up doing homework and kind enough to respond to my insanity (and exploit my sleepiness :-)).

So now, for your reading pleasure, I present to you, “Baked Beans, Mr. Potato Head, Fair Maiden, and a Purr Box.”

Me, 9:36pm: It’s Sabbath night for me, so I’m just reading.
Friend, 9:37pm: Nice. Enjoy :-)
Me, 9:38pm: It’d be nice to have hot chocolate :-).
Friend, 9:39pm: :-)
Me, 9:44pm: I’m actually enjoying this book. It’s WMU history. I don’t usually like istory, so it’s weird that I’m enjoying this.
Friend, 9:52pm: I’m glad you’re enjoying it! My calves hurt :-(.
Me, 11:57pm: Hey. Are you still awake? I fell asleep reading. It’s one of my talents :-).
Me, 12:00m: Happy December! :-)
Friend, 12:00am: :-)
Me, 12:01am: HEY!! :-) What are you doing?
Friend, 12:01am: Working on homework.
Me, 12:01am: All my lights are on. Hehe.
Me, 12:02am: Good job for working on your homework.
Me, 12:05am: How are you?
Friend, 12:05am: I’m good. Are you still asleep?
Me, 12:07am: Why no I am not. I have just moved to my spacious bed. I am right in the very middle. And I must say. My bed, away from the space heater, hosting me in my pajamas, is much cooler than the couch. I feel likes being cooler.
Me, 12:10am: I don’t really like onions. You know that. But some things are just plain better with onions than without. Baked beans are one of them. Shhhh. Don’t tell!
Friend, 12:15am: :-)
Me, 12:16am: Mr. POTATO HEAD! I never played with him. But. He could be fun. Creating new identities and such. Especially with a mustache.
Friend, 12:18am: :-)
Me, 12:23am: Exactly what portion of your homework morsels are you working to digest?
Me, 12:37am: How is your working, my fair maiden?
Friend, 12:44am: Fine. Hahaha.
Me, 12:45am: Tis great to hear and music to my ears.
Friend, 12:51am: Hahahaha.
Me, 12:57am: Why do humans not have a purr box like cats? That would be helpful in relatiedships, you know?:
Friend, 12:58am: A purr box? Going to sleep now. Hope you’re sleeping well.
Me, 2:47am: Good night for real. Hehe. I just had the oddest dream! Couldn’t make it up the hill. Light out this time.

Me, 8:00am: Good morning. Sorry I fell asleep on you last night. I was reading and then sleeping.
Friend, 8:30am: You should read the texts you sent last night.
Me, 8:35am: Hahahahaha! Oh my. Where in the world was my brain?! I guess you figured out I was asleep :-). Did you laugh at me?
Friend, 9:49am: Yep. I was laughing a lot :-).

FYI: I also wrote my mom in my sleep, telling her that I was asleep when she wrote me—that I had fallen asleep reading—but that I was up and moving to my bed—and that I loved her. It’s always important to tell your mom you love her before going to bed, right? :-)

Everything I Could Fit Into My VB Duffel Bag

I am a vivid dreamer. In fact, I wish that I had the diligence to record all of my dreams because I know they’d tell me a good deal about myself. A few years ago, I did have this diligence and I’m now able to look back and see a written record of transformation in my dreams—a transformation of real life hurt and anger to one of forgiveness and being okay. It’s amazing how much work can happen in our dreams…which may be why I often wake up just as tired as I was before I lay down!

I had a weird dream the other night that I keep thinking about. It’s hard to put the images into words but I’m going to try:

I was either at a conference or at work when I went outside and noticed that the tide was really high. As I flew away for a quick break, I realized that everything around my building had been destroyed—including my building—only, the floors that were below the ground were just fine—therefore my office or hotel room or dorm room (it was all of these things at one point) was fine, too. Because of the mass devastation that the waves had caused, everyone was evacuating the building—for good. They were never going to be allowed back. I refused to evacuate, however, because I didn’t have my phone or wallet or computer or anything else that I needed to survive.

I knew that my space was safe—I had just come from it, after all, and didn’t even know the rest of the building had collapsed until I took a flying break—so I didn’t see why I couldn’t go back and grab what I needed. I shared this predicament with Boss. She agreed and told me to follow her. She then led me to an underground mall where National WMU President, Debby Akerman, and National WMU Executive Director-Treasurer, Wanda Lee, were eating Chinese food. Boss quietly interrupted them and asked Debby for the key to our rooms and explained that we needed to get back to them to get something. Debby gave us the keys and we returned to our space—carefully avoiding the “Caution: Do Not Enter” tape.

When we got to our space, we found a couple of our other coworkers—or friends from college or my school teaching days—I think the people changed. Quietly, we each began to pack up our stuff, hoping that we wouldn’t get caught. At first, I packed haphazardly—just putting stuff into my bag. But then I realized that I had been granted more time than originally planned, so I began to unpack and repack—this time being more careful.

I knew that I could only take what I could fit into my Vera Bradley duffel bag, so I carefully considered what items were truly important. I asked myself if clothes were things that I often wore—if they would be difficult to replace if left behind (like the pair of jeans that just can’t be replaced)—if I could buy them again easily—if I never really wore them. I asked myself about books and papers and such…and I had to make sure that this one striped shirt was with me because it was really my favorite pillow case that a friend had given me.

As I sat there and packed my VB bag, I hoped that the guards wouldn’t come and throw me out before I was finished. I also tried to figure out the best way to say goodbye to everything left behind and to load my VB bag into my car…but then the dream shifted to me flying away, over a school yard, trying to direct myself to a safe landing but losing control and becoming a fugitive weapon and…then I woke up.

Jenny used to tell me that dreams were either fear or wish dreams. And I think most of the time that’s true. But I’m not so sure what this dream was…except for weird…and one that’s made me think about what I’d pack in my VB duffel bag if I had to weed down everything I own into just one bag.

What about you? What do you think you’d take from your office, hotel, dorm, class, or bed room if the building above you crashed? Or…what weird dream have you had lately?

Living A Dream

It hit me about three hours ago: I am living my dream. Read these words that I wrote in Spring 2009:

I think that the worst part of being a music minister is having to be at the same church every Sunday and feeling guilty for being away for a conference or retreat. Despite the fact that I have stopped running from church ministry and realized that I am gifted and equipped to do music ministry, my main passion is still retreat and worship ministry and I still want to work for the WMU. Those two desires will not leave my heart, and even though I have no idea how the desires are going to be fulfilled, I hold to the hope that they will. Quite honestly, I hold to the hope that an administrative assistant’s job will open at the WMU and that my weekends will be free to travel across the state and beyond both representing WMU and leading spiritual formation retreats and worship events. Maybe that is why administrative work is so appealing to me right now—it is a weekday job that involves closure and will allow me the freedom to go and do my heart’s deepest desire.

When I resigned from teaching, I was petrified about not knowing the future. After seeing how God has provided for me and honored my leap of faith, I am no longer frightened by the uncertainty of tomorrow. My interests are vast. My experience is varied. I have many possibilities within full-time vocational ministry, and I have the possibility of returning to the mission field of the public schools. I am currently just waiting for my intuition to sense where God is leading me next. My mom, who was integral in pointing me in the direction of elementary music, recently pointed out that WMU exists in states beyond North Carolina. Maybe I will leave the state after I graduate. Or maybe I will, again, stay right where I am and continue to build upon the growing ministry at Antioch.

Whatever I do, though, I now know that the most important thing is that I be who God has created me to be. I am a teacher. An encourager. A daughter, sister, aunt, granddaughter, niece, and friend. I am a dreamer. A learner. A questioner. A peacemaker. I am someone who sees the world in colors. I am someone who loves passionately and feels deeply. I am a Christ-seeker and a Christ-follower. I am a believer in the Triune God. I uphold the sanctity of all created life, and I believe in equal rights for all. I am a certified Myers Briggs Administrator, and I want to help others understand who they are so that they can live into the fullness of who God created them to be. I am a sinner. I am a saint. I am a theologian on a journey of faith. I am part of God’s bigger story, and I was created uniquely and wonderfully. I am the union of my mother and father. And I am okay. Just as I am.

Since working at Camp Mundo Vista in 1996, I have wanted to worked for WMU. Tonight, I find myself in Phoenix, Arizona, having just experienced an amazing missions celebration with WMU women (and men) from across the country. I have shared meals and personal conversation with important staff members and missionaries from the IMB and NAMB. I have laughed with and hugged national staff members and presidents and been welcomed as a colleague. I, Deanna Deaton—with all my quarks and flaws and insecurities and questions—am part of a network of women (and men) who desire to love God into this world, to meet God where God is, and to change this world—one person at a time.

I get so frustrated with church and denominational politics sometimes. I am often flabbergasted with language that pits “us” against “them” and I hang my head in shame over how Christians are portrayed. But it’s nights like tonight—after real, hard conversations—after long, draining hours—after beautiful, inspiring music—when I remember that I’m part of a bigger story and that I am standing on the shoulders of countless women who have given countless hours to influence countless people with the promise of Life.

It’s nights like tonight when I am reminded why I have chosen life—why I persevere through closed minds and judgmental attitudes and slammed doors and uncertain futures and broken hearts and exhausted eyes. I have chosen life because God gave us life and God called us good and Jesus came to transform darkness so that we could live in light and love and all things good.

I must admit that I’m sitting at the desk in my hotel room in Phoenix weeping. I am so humbled to be part of this story—of God’s story—and to have the opportunity to work with women every day who have devoted their lives to telling God’s story.

Obviously, I didn’t get that assistant’s job with WMU NC, nor did I stay at Antioch. Rather, I moved to South Carolina to become a WMU consultant—to dive into the work of WMU head first—and sometimes I still come up gasping for air! Yet. I’m living my dream. And for that I am grateful. And from here I mustn’t stop dreaming…

Nor should you.

What’s your dream? Have you seen it come true?