I don’t dream very much but know people who do. Maybe I’ve been too tired for too many years.
When I do dream, they are one of two kinds: 1-weird: a mud soup of processing and firing synapses OR 2 – a gut punch; revealing, uncovering pictures with answers to my heart’s questions. The gut punch leans into insight both beautiful and tortuous. Today’s 3 am wakeup was the latter.
I’ve been spending the last couple months in schools and with moms who are asking all the hard and good questions. The conversation grows because parents all want the best things for our kids: faith, hope, love, laughter, friendships, purpose, opportunities, goodness, security, safety, etc.... and each time the world takes a swing at their souls, ours breaks a little.
Thus, the dream, and what I knew it meant upon waking up:
...
I was a chaperone on a school field trip talking with another mom and standing between two buses. My dream’s self was reminded of a reel a friend had sent me a few weeks back which discussed the importance of 5 minutes; that sometimes 5 min early or 5 min late would change your life. And immediately I felt a compelling voice say, “You need to get to higher ground.”
My kindergartener beside me, I said, “We have to go” and started walking up the hill. I sent him up 20 paces and turned to grab my daughter. And then I saw it -- a flash flood.
The flood was brutal. Pine trees and granite rocks ripped from the ground and funneled through the Rocky Mountain valley. And the water was rising quickly.
All the upper elementary kids had turned to try and go up the hill, half of them already swept away. Those still alive were waist deep.
I turned to my husband (don’t you love it when another person shows up in the dream when you need them) and said, “You grab our son...I’m going for our daughter. I know you’re a stronger swimmer, but I’m closer. And I need to know he is safe!” And I sprinted down to her.
The water was strong, splashing on our faces, but I held her hand fast. Head down, as we stepped forward, I realized that the ground was solid. Sticky almost. If we leaned against the water and just kept taking one step at a time, our feet would hold.
Then I saw one of her friends and shouted “Grab ______’s hand!” She did and we all took another step or two. Kid after kid started to grab each other’s hand. Friends standing together. As other kids swept by us, some reached out. Those that did, we could grab their hand and bring them into the group.
Suddenly a group of boys were behind us. They were together but didn’t know what to do, so I yelled, “Hold on to each other and push with us” and we all kept stepping against the current, slowly gripping up the hill.
...
I wish I could tell you that in the dream we all made it to safety. But I woke up where it ends above. I sat up straight in bed weeping, my heart racing. The deep impressions, what I knew it meant for me was this:
I had always pictured wading through hard life reality like a Mississippi ford experience...sure, you have to cross the river, and there is some current, but if you learn how to swim you can do it. But No. The reality our kids are facing is like a broken dam. The water is swift and violent, and the only way forward is climbing up hill.
The ground will hold. The path is set well. If we grip it, we can stand. Adults and kids.
We stand better together. We must hold fast to our friends who want to climb the hill. Kids must find groups of people to stand with them. We must grab those who reach out.
And the kids need grown-ups' help. Many instinctively know to go uphill. But they desperately need our strength in the fight, our directions on the most important things to do, and to know that we will not leave them. We will stand in the waters with them and their friends. They will not be abandoned.
I hesitated a little sharing this, lest the dream be hijacked into a discussion on schools, or culture wars, or phones and media or politics... but its picture is a huge part of this sabbatical and life journey.
As most meaningful dreams do, it applied to two spaces. First, and obviously, to my family and friends and parents just trying to love our kids through hard spaces. Run in, hold fast, and teach them to lean into grippy roads.
But second, it clarified some things for me on this writing journey.
See, I’ve been having the typical writer’s internal battle. The one that asks...is this all worth it? All the time and money and angst...will it really matter or am I on a fool’s errand? Will it be good enough? Will people really support me?
Because while I love writing, the behind-the-scenes business of books and learning all about that has been a little surprising, yucky, a reality gut punch.
I’m a multi-generational responsive writer. I see the hard things kids and families are facing and write into those spaces. That’s a lot harder to market and quantify than ‘I write sci-fi to 30–50-year-olds.’
I can’t help it. It’s a passion. Ear to the ground and hearing hundreds of stories a year, I want to dive in and love on kids and families.
But I need to share a story that clarifies and fits. I paid to join an organization that had access to over 1,000 literary agents and publishers. The appeal was that it had a search engine and cataloging system, which after Googling for weeks, seemed amazing. When I used this system and checked the box for Christian, Children’s Fiction, it brought the options down to 8.
Yes, 8. As in 0.008% are open to looking at children’s fiction. And several of those required the submitter to already be a successful adult trade back author.
0.008% It still shocks me.
And while I understood why (kids don’t have the highest buying power), I was angry. How can we expect our kids to thrive, let alone survive, when there is a lack of options? We need as many potential encouraging stories for kids as possible, different enough to reach a diverse population.
How can kids not be swept away by culture of the day when their access is .008%? The market is reserved for adult self-help books. While needed and fine, my heart is broken that there aren’t a lot of preventive reading options. What if instead we flooded kids with stories of hope, triumph over struggle, and learning that might make the wounds of the world less deep?
I know this is just one example, so I will pause my personal frustration. My head understands the reality of business. My heart doesn’t. My heart desires to swim upstream before the waters overtake kids and hopefully pull them from the river or at least offer a rope or buoy in turbulent waters. See, my dream wasn’t about business. It was about helping kids hold fast and step up the worthy road one foot at a time.
So, this dream re-answered the second question of ‘is this writing journey worth it?’
And my heart says “Yes, press on.”
I’m supposed to add book teasers, so I’ll share mine: I’m working on two things right now.
First, an upper elementary series. It’s full of magic and fun. It deals with real problems but doesn’t dive so far into danger that it leaves kids traumatized. It encourages. So far lots of beta readers have loved it.
Second, a high school daily advice/thoughts book. Don’t worry teens, each entry is short (I hear you!). It’s full of the 17 years' worth of hard-won lessons and realizations. Every time a student said, “Wow, you should put that in a book” I wrote it down and it has a lot of those stories. Practical school stuff; life stuff; reality stuff... lots of stuff stuff. The stuff stuff you want to talk about.
I’m no C.S Lewis or Tolken or J.K. Rowling. I’m not aiming to be an Influencer (oh the pressure). But if I can write a few things that encourage a few kids and help them walk up the hill as the flood waters come...then yes, it is worth it. (Subscribe for updates on that if you like.)
And I pass on that challenge to you, dear readers. Sprint into the waters. Hold our kids’ hands fast. Grab anyone who reaches out. And speak what you can into the world to help it. You and your gifts are desperately needed, even if your platform is small. I never once in the dream counted the number of kids I had around me... I just kept reaching and encouraging them to reach for who they could. Because each life mattered individually.
A final thought: I shared my dream with someone who I love dearly. It was fresh and new, so the tears returned. How could they not with that picture...my heart devastated by both the difficulty of the fight and even more for those who were so quickly swept away...for those who had no one to sprint to them.
This person encouraged: ‘This is a powerful dream. Thank you for sharing it. I hear a promise, not a battle...follow me and I will lead you to safe places...and you don’t know where His power will lead them so surrender that.”
Let’s dive in and hold fast to promise in the midst of battles. Sprint for all you can and encourage our kids to reach out and be the next steadfast leaders. Lean into the road –He’s infused himself in it and it will hold.
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