Lately I've been feeling very useless, like all my dreams have been forsaken in favor of what's immediate. Dreams are not instant. Well, that's maybe not true. Seeing dreams  become a reality is not instant. In fact, it's about as opposite of instant as it could possibly be. That's probably why so many dreams get forgotten, left behind, buried beneath years of impatience and disappointment.

Today my dreams are on my mind. Don't give up the dream. Don't let it go. That's how I've been feeling. But what about acting on it? "Should I act on my dreams?" I ask. I don't get an answer. Maybe it's not the right question. "Should I give it a try?" Why not, I hear. 

This morning I woke up to a hot sun and a sunny disposition, something that hasn't been the norm in recent months (well, years if I'm being honest). I felt curious, interested to see how the day would pan out, not skeptical of it before it even had time to unfold. I remembered an old notebook I used to jot ideas down in when I worked at my old job, the one that a lot of down time (and threatened to suck the passion right out of me). What I found in this notebook surprised me. There were a lot of interesting ideas, mostly not formulated much farther than a sentence or two. But one entry had a fairly well-developed thought written. It inspired me to find that girl again, the one who voraciously wrote down every thought simply because she knew that's how inspiration emerges. The more one writes, the more gold there is to mine out of coal.

HEre's what it said...

"I never knew. I spent my whole life in California, grew up here, went to school here, drove down I-5 more times than I could count, and I never knew.

"I'd heard of the dust bowl, but pretty soon it got lost in the shuffle of all the other bowls around--the Rose Bowl, the Orange Bowl . . . I'd be curious how many kids today think it's a football game. But it wasn't. 

"When I was a senior at San Jose State University, I took a Steinbeck course and read The Grapes of Wrath for the first time. That's where I learned about the horrific events that happened in my own backyard just a few decades before I was born. Migrant workers, shantytowns, starvation and rotting fruit all coexisting in the trenches of over-traveled roads spanning the length of the California Central Valley.

The Power of the novel was not so great because it won the Nobel prize, but because of the author's ability to tap into the human heart. 

Listen to the sound of the old jalopy. Listen to it as it creaks and moans, feel the shifting of the gears. . . . tune into what it's saying.

When the cars finally gave out, was anyone listening? The plight of man--did anyone care? What was so "other" about these hard-working souls? Though they had little, they were generous with what they did have. In the face of poverty, they found plenty.

Here I am sitting in my tiny apartment, thinking about how I don't have space in my closet to fit my shoes, and how I don't have enough shoes, so where will I put my new ones if I can't even fit what I do have in the closet? My plight pales in comparison. Only when I have nothing do I have everything.

Listen to the sound of the old jalopy. The poor. The helpless. The broken. The needy. What do they need? If you listen, they'll tell you. But the first thing they need is our attention. How many times have I refused to give away even a quarter to someone who asked for it simply because I wasn't sure they'd use it for something other than drugs or alcohol? So many adults used to tell me to be careful who I gave to--but a couple of weeks ago, while sitting in North Beach eating gelato, a needy man asked for change. Joel reached into his wallet and gave him every penny he had--without hesitation.

I was thirsty and you gave me a drink. 

How do we offer drink to those who don't tell us they're thirsty? Listen. Listen to the hum of the engine.

We may never know what our act of kindness does, the repercussions they have in the recipients' lives, days, weeks, months, or years in the future. We don't have to know. That's not the purpose. Showing kindness, showing love, treating fellow man with loving kindness is al our concern should entail. Not glory for us, but glory for God through us.

We can add water to the radiator when it gets dry. We can tighten a screw when it gets loose. We can take a warm rag and wipe down the windshield, cleaning the bugs and dirt off so that the driver may see clearly again. Sometimes we can see what needs to be done, but other times we simply need to listen. Listen to the heart of the driver."

I concede that this does not represent my best work, but even this small entry holds the potential for developing a great and powerfully meaningful and moving piece of art. Don't give up the dream. Take hold of it.