The dance between dreaming and waiting

I wrote this post last week for The Writer's Alley. Thought I would share.

###
Today, my five year old had her ballet recital. The venue was magical as it is an old historic theatre that once hosted speakers such as Amelia Earhart, Helen Keller, Grant Wood, and now includes several modern-day celebrities as guests on its stage.

But, my five year old didn't know any of that, of course (only her kooky historic writing mama). She just knew that she was there to dance--her favorite thing to do. I snapped this shot as she waited for"Act 2"-- her turn. In the part of the red curtain, she spied the older dancers on the stage, and the lights, and the audience, and the shine.

As I look back through the pictures tonight, I wonder, was she waiting or was she dreaming? Because if you know my daughter, she is a dreamer. Make-believe is her specialty and life is all about the dream we make it. Pretty coincidental for the child of a fiction writing mama, huh? Nah.

Once upon a time, I was just like her. I used to be content with dreaming. I would drive about town and imagine the wonderful scenes I could write, and dream about the stories that might be told one day from my computer keyboard. It was a crazy little secret I held, one that fluttered around in the pit of my belly, that would give me joy and hope and inspiration to create characters and life outside my own.

But then, once the secret urged me to share in the magic of the writing show and it became known that I wrote, and I was measured up next to all the writers before me and with me, that's when the dreaming turned to waiting.

Don't get me wrong, I still dream along this aisle toward center stage, but, I'll admit that I wait more than I dream. And sometimes, the waiting makes the dreaming seem like a waste of time.

As I trek into the thick of this ten year road to publication, I begin to long for the dreaming again. I see my daughter's potential and her patience for the dream. She's happy where she is at on stage, forgetting her twirls and positions and never making it through the routine without a glance into the wings where her teacher dances about to reminds her. Yet, she feels like a ballerina. She looks like a ballerina. She is a ballerina with a dream.

And she's happy there. For now.

I want to be happy here, for now. Where my dream fills my heart and the waiting is not a burden. Do I daresay that writing is more waiting than dreaming? No. It's a dance. We wait, and while we wait, we dream. And we should never stop dreaming. Writers, we should always dream in the wait.

At the end of the recital, one of the older girls had a solo on point. Her beautiful slender legs didn't wobble as she danced on her toes, wearing a wonderfully rich red tutu. (My daughter's been known to sit and admire the point dancers after practice, unwinding those ribbons attached to the magical point shoes that are certainly a far off dream at this time.)

While we watched this seasoned ballerina, I didn't hear my daughter say, "I can't wait until I do that", or "Mama, when can I have point shoes?". She didn't say anything at all, but smiled and watched. I sat with her in admiration for the prima ballerina wondering what dreaming was going on in that little head of my girl, and a bit envious that she didn't care about the wait, just enjoyed watching those before her live a dream. Maybe her dream, but that's the beauty of the dance.

Maybe it's the same for writers. For me.

How about you? Do you wait more than you dream? Or are you enjoying the dance of the two?

*************************************************************************************************************

Angie Dicken is a full-time mom and lives in the Midwest with her Texas Aggie sweetheart. An ACFW member since 2010, she has written six historical novels and is represented by Tamela Hancock Murray of The Steve Laube Agency. Angie also spends her time designing one-sheets and drinking good coffee with great friends. Check her personal blog at angiedicken.blogspot.com and connect at:

Facebook: www.facebook.com/dicken.angie, 

Twitter: @angiedicken

Pinterest: www.pinterest.com/agdicken/

I shall not want.

It's when I get in those funks of wanting to consume my time with writing, or job hunting, or blogging, or Facebook arguments, or....yeah, anything that distracts me from the here and now moment of motherhood, marriage, and household management, that I realize I am trying to replace my needs with my wants.

Suddenly, I am squeezing real life in these mini-breaks from my wannas, maybes, and only ifs. There's something inside me that opens up like a great big chasm, reminding me that I am not satisfied or adequate. I go around in a veil of gloom, stepping toward an edge that might doom me into broken relationship because of my shameful words or actions that dismiss the most important parts of life right now--motherhood, marriage, and household management.

Yeah, you might tell that I am not in the mood for eloquence in this post.

It's because I just feel so... annoyed with myself.

Today, I arrived at my daughter's preschool early, parked, and decided to take a walk in the nearby neighborhood. Not many days left where that is even appealing. But today was decent, cool, and not too uncomfortable out. I am on Day 3 of my pastor's challenge to stay in Psalm 23, so I looked up the next part of the Psalm on my out-dated iPhone 5.

And the next part was,

"I shall not want."

No kidding.

Perfect timing huh? I mean within minutes of me telling my husband I was disappointed with the way things are going in my pursuit of my dreams, potential work, and overall purpose.

But, the Guy doing the shepherding is not very subtle in His job of "guiding me" as He should. And in that fifteen minute walk, He led me...maybe not through a valley, but away from the edge.

The Lord is my Shepherd, even when I am not listening or when I am throwing a fit. If I just stop and listen, I might just not want for anything...but Him.

 He sits at the proverbial gate of my pen, protecting me, the stupid sheep trying my darndest to carve my own path. Pretty hard when my carving always leads to Him. He's not easily ignored. And He certainly knows exactly what I need.