“Don’t look at yourself in the same old way — take another picture. Shoot the stars off in your own backyard — don’t look any further.” Carly Simon, The Stuff That Dreams Are Made Of
When I came down to the kitchen one recent morning, my husband had an unusual set up surrounding the dishwasher.
Its door was propped halfway open, supported by a rolling office chair. Doors of surrounding cabinets were flung wide. The nearby faucet was purposefully dripping and a fan was pointed at the pipes that bring water straight into the kitchen from our home’s main line.
A bit odd. A configuration that forced breakfast into a sideways-walking, single-file kind of thing. But, I was in no way complaining. The last time it got this cold (-3 Fahrenheit) and stayed that way for several days, those very pipes burst, flooding our kitchen.
This old house is, in so many ways, my house of dreams. But, like any dream, it carries an ongoing cost. For the house, that cost comes in maintenance. After standing nearly 100 years, something is always chipping, peeling, collapsing, leaking. Always.
We love the house. We love the neighborhood. Both suit our family size and life. So, we continue to pay the cost of this particular dream.
Always. That’s a critical word. The best stuff — the stuff that dreams are made of — always carries a cost. A house. Marriage. Children. A writing career. A relationship with God.
There are days, when it might be tempting to walk away from any or all of the above. To find something easier. A better dream. Maybe even someone else’s dream.
Real grown-ups don’t bolt, however. They haul out a fan and an office chair. They do whatever is necessary to keep the dream alive. For always.
P.S. If Valentine’s Day has your thoughts turning toward love, you may enjoy my February micro-blog posts on Facebook @ noraedingerbooks. Like or follow this page to have a look at God’s love delivered fresh to your newsfeed. If you’re not on Facebook, the Fresh Mercy posts also scroll at the bottom of all pages on this site. Blessings!