What if I don't have what it takes?

It's not hard to dream in January. Perhaps Christmas reignited just enough of our childlike (never say childish) imagination and propensity for fantasy. And now we have high hopes and ideals for our future.

Not you? 

Maybe your boss, therapist, or life coach nudged  you to do some goal planning. You may have been reluctant at first, but then, as you gave yourself permission to want things and to even write them down, and to dare believe that some of your old yearnings could become new realities, your pulse went up just a little and the frown shallowed out on your forehead.

Still not you?

If you're neither a dreamer nor one to be told when and how to plan, when life is clearly resistant to our schemes, you may just be tired of the same old outcome anyway and have a vague sense that you want more or different or better in 2022. 

Is that you?

Well, all of us do think ahead. Dr. Jordan Peterson says it's what makes us different from animals - we can negotiate with the future. We can sacrifice something now (time to write this blog, for example) for a better deal later (time to drink a cup of cinnamon apple tea while seeing new subscribers eager to engage with me, for instance).

I'll admit, I didn't need a coach to tell me to plan my year. I binge-listened John Maxwell and others between Christmas and New Year's, while refusing to take the Christmas tree or decorations down, so that my dreaming inner child could help me make sure I access hopes that are still dewy with possibility and childlike faith. 

And I dreamed. And I mapped weekly and daily goals. And the big ones. All the way to the published books, the listings on Amazon and the annual writer's retreat in a cabin in the snowcapped mountains of Montana (yep, that is my ultimate imaginary happy place!)

But before I could even swing my warm and snug, thick-socked feet off the sofa, It hit me.

What if I don't have what it takes?

Let me detour here for a second and take you to my kitchen. It's about a week ago. 9 am. Can you see me doing last night's last dishes, but with a smile, knowing that in about 5 minutes I get to go to my "fake cabin" to continue writing? (I'll tell you about my fake cabin later.)

Now see my husband, louis walking in with the coffee I took him in bed a little while ago. He is holding the mug in one hand and hope for breakfast in the other.

"What is in your morning?" he asks.

"I'm going to write some more. Probably a piece of the marriage book. I'll see." I chirp.

He chirps back, "Why bother. So many people have already written that book."

Calm down. You don't know Louis. He is always joking. And even when he isn't, I tell myself he is, so I can cope. Almost 30 years of marriage says this strategy works.

Even though he is joking, and I know it, I say, "Hey, I have an inner saboteur already, who sets my Montana cabin on fire every time I dare to dream. Don't you be handing him matches, you hear me?"

This saboteur is the one who snuggled up to me on the sofa after Christmas to whisper that my hopes are too high, along with my estimate of my capabilities and that if John Maxwell knew me, there would be a part about making sure your dream will float. I look for more books and there is one! "Put your dream to the test." I buy it because I don't want to be like those people on American Idols auditions who can't hold a tune in a bucket but still go before millions on TV, embarrassing themselves.

Here is the thing, I tested my dream. I discovered that so  many of what I've always done and enjoyed have been what gave those around me most joy too. While trying to humbly and gratefully recall the successes as mother, wife, leader, writer, and in other roles,  I saw the outlines of the tall pine trees of Montana, the silhouette of the mountains and the smoke from the cabin chimney. It can happen! I may not have everything it will take to get to the ultimate peak of my writing dream, my motherhood dream, my leadership dream, my spiritual growth dream, my marriage dream, and all the rest of them.

Not today. But I can grow, though! I can learn. I can show up each day, dust off the dream, give it some precious time - negotiating for the future filled with meaning, as only humans made in the Dreamer's image can - and leave the Christmas decorations up for as long as I want.

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