Several weeks ago one Sunday morning, Janessa was looking at a family picture I have in our room taken when she was about six months old taken at her baby dedication. She said, “I wish we could fast-forward- -NO! I mean fast backward to that time. And then you wouldn’t go away in the night and have an accident. Then Jennie wouldn’t have died and Jana wouldn’t be broken and all our dreams wouldn’t have broken either.” I was almost speechless. I managed to say, “I know dear, it would be nice to be able to redo it but this is where we are. We’ll have to dream new dreams.” But as young as she is, she sounded so like an old tired little lady, sighing deeply she said, “But it’s so hard to dream new dreams.”

I hear you little girl; dreaming new dreams is very hard when your dreams have been broken, shattered. And how do you even begin to dream again when all that you knew, your world has been shattered? When the life you had, is nothing like the life you are now living?

While I still have more questions than answers and I’m not too sure that I’ve begun to dream well again-yet. I think I’m starting to dream again. I get glimpses of the flicker, the longing, the wanting to dream again. Yet there are the questions… Is it safe to dream again? What if my dreams get broken again? Can I even dream again? – Life is so hard and I’m so tired. – Is it even worth trying to dream again? And if I don’t dream again my dreams can’t be shattered, I won’t have any to shatter.

So why dream new dreams? Dreaming again shows healing, speaks of life. One thing that I am coming to a deeper understanding of is – acceptance is a huge part in being able to dream again. I need to accept where I am, to be okay with the fact I can’t do as much as I used to do or even do as much as I would like to do. But acceptance seems to be an elusive thing- – some days I feel I have accepted how my life has changed and I am bold and ask for help or I let people know how they can help us. And then there are days when I am resistant to the changes, to the pain. I wish things were different. I’m a grouch because the house is dirty and the flowerbeds are not flowering; they are full of weeds. And I desperately miss Jennie’s smiling face, her cheery voice and helping hands. And I wish we go back to the life we used to know.

What does acceptance look like? And how do I accept my new life? Acceptance is not a passive thing, where I just say, “Okay, whatever, it will be fine. God is in control.” Acceptance does not mean my heart is disengaged or silenced. Acceptance means my heart is alert and very aware of the journey I am on. It also includes that I am very aware of and know what my losses are and have grieved well those losses. I have to grieve the life I had to be able to accept the life I now have. And to grieve well I need to be aware of what I lost. It sometimes feels like an ever maddening circle, and I’m only getting dizzy and barely surviving instead of accepting my new life and thriving. I also wonder if acceptance might also includes knowing Who my Father is and what His heart is towards me; being willing to grapple with my questions about life and even God, yet not demanding an answer or not trusting God’s sovereignty; being willing to keep an open tender heart even though it feels most dangerous and unsafe to do. Maybe acceptance looks more like a fierce fight or struggle than a quiet “I’ll just give up and hope it all turns out okay” attitude. Maybe it’s also being okay with mystery; the mystery of how God can use this brokenness and pain, an ugly mess and make something of beauty from it. Thank you Father for being a Redeemer.