dream, purpose, Uncategorized, Writing

Does a Dream Lie Dormant inside of You?

Godliness with contentment


The other day I realized that I’m a writer. Silly, huh?

A salary does not reward me the title…yet. But the fact that I spend the majority of my days typing at my computer does. My laptop is a good friend. I actually miss it when I haven’t had the chance to sit and pour out my soul through its keys. Even the white screen and the blinking cursor invite my spirit to enter.

My computer has become…



Comfort. Though pouring my heart out for all to see is not safe, and at times it is rather uncomfortable.

I never really dreamed of doing this as a career because I never thought I was good enough to allow the dream..

Have you done this with anything in your life?

[tweetability]Have you squelched a dream because you didn’t feel qualified?[/tweetability]

There are human handicaps and frailties that delegate the possible and improbable. For instance, I will never be an Olympian. But that’s okay because my heart never yearned for such feats. After being chosen last on every elementary school-yard team, I decided to invest my heart in abilities better fitting.

As a kid, I dreamed big dreams. I was going to be a rocket scientist for a brief year. And then as science lost it’s sparkle or perhaps I lost my sparkle for science and numbers, my dreams of rockets faded and my love affair with words slowly flamed. A new dream, the one God chose for me was planted deep inside.

But after years of living, the dream drifted away. Life demanded logic.

Planted deep down in me has lain a tiny seed that breathed in brief moments– when dreams were allowed to run free.

That seed, dormant for decades–as good as dead, now blooms within me and flowers all over this friend of mine–this mechanical gatekeeper. It stores my words and provides the venue to minister to others, teach what I love, and share the gospel message.

The best part is that I no longer desire dreams of fame and fortune (which I was never comfortable with anyway.) I know this new-found contentment seeps through my soul because I’ve found the true dream that lived inside me all along.

Maybe that’s why my computer feels like home.

I found me.

What seed lies dormant in you? May I encourage you to pray for sunlight and water to bring it to life. We’re not getting any younger, you know.

[tweetability]There will always be someone more talented, but there will never be another you. And you have something to give the world.[/tweetability]

Seize the day.






  1. I have something to give the world

    Thanks for this, Andy. When I was little I imagined I was dancing on my toes–but that was because I couldn’t take dance lessons as a little girl. I worked that wish out of me after taking dance lessons for give years–at the age of 39. :) I did it. I enjoyed it. I was over it.

    This topic is also on my heart as I seek to know what God has created me to be…

    1. I know you do Jeanne! Is it not writing and speaking? I’ll be praying for you. Thanks for reading and leaving your thoughts.

  2. Katherine

    Thank you for your encouraging words.

  3. I can totally identify with your sentiments, Andy. I still don’t feel good enough, but God uses imperfect ill equipped people for his purposes. I’m just happy I’m one of them and happy you are too!

  4. Patricia J. Keough-Wilson

    Echoes of our long and wonderful conversation when we spent a rewarding time talking.

  5. I suffer from comparisonitis. Thank you for the gentle encouragement. Persistence helps my dream come to fruition. Even when I feel unworthy, I try to continue down the path. I think God prods me along when I am most discouraged. What a lovely post, Andy. YES, you were born an author!

    1. Hey Bonnie, don’t we all?! Thank you for your encouragement too!

  6. Janyce Dodier

    Best article I have read which you have written! Love to all, Nannie

  7. Mary Ann Metz

    A good word to ponder. Sometimes the dreams seem so far away and lost in the fog – too hard to find again.

    1. They’ll come back, Mary Ann. It just takes time.

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