Dreams...wishes...dandelions...somehow they seem synonymous.
Like tiny florets floating on the wind, none can really be sure which will reach maturity. They must be content to go where the wind blows. And we to surrender our dreams to the Author of Life, to bury, and bring to life, as He sees fit.
Place and timing He knows best.
And dreams are always safe committed to His care. Even if they never grow.
For in that case, He simply has something much greater in store. And all that can hinder that greater good is us. He's just waiting for our permission. To work in our lives.
True, it may appear as though mounds of earth cover cherished dreams, never again to see the sun. But who can tell what the springtime may bring. A thing of beauty, yielding so much more.
So the question. The only one left to ask.
Will we let Him?
