The Reality of Dreams

The idea of “going for your dreams” has been one of my life’s mantras; have a dream; dream a dream; reach for your dream. If you can dream it, you can do it.

When I was in elementary school we used the SRA reading program. I loved it. You went to a color-coded box, picked out a story at your reading level, read the story and answered the questions. Then if there was enough time, you could repeat the process. The stories were fascinating. One of my favorite was about the Loch Ness Monster. I was absorbed by that story. My dream was to go to Scotland and search for the Loch Ness Monster.

I live in Scotland now. I have been to Loch Ness and looked for the monster. Several times. I have incorporated those experiences, and the legend itself, into several of my books.

I haven’t spotted Nessie yet, but I fulfilled my dream of looking for her—even on a tour boat once. But about that dream…the reality of it saddens me. I miss my Texas, USA, home. I miss my family. Most of all, I miss Texas heat and dry and scrumptious Southern cooking.

For those who don’t know, Scotland is cold. Always cold. Even in “summer,” temperatures rarely get above 70F, and if they do—people in Scotland hate it. They say they are “broiling.”

Here in Dunoon, Scotland, it rains an average of 185 days a year. Last year it was more. It rained for days on end. Here we are two months into the new year—and it is still raining. It is still dark. It is still cold. The sun has only shown itself about three times in this new year—and all three times—it was bitterly cold even with the sun.

Many people have dreams. Some lament, “I don’t think my dream will ever come true.” Leave it in God’s hands. Perhaps the reality of the dream is not as quintessential as the dream itself.

I’m not bashing Scotland, nor am I expressing misery over my life, or over chasing dreams. I would zealously guard both the life I have now, and my dreams from others offering to exchange with me or wanting to rob me of them. I have written and published 46 Christian cozy mystery-romance-suspense books while living here in Scotland. All I have ever wanted to do since I was a child is write books. I am living my dream. I have taken brilliant photos—brilliant not because I took them, but because of the subject matter. Scotland is a beautiful country from coast to coast. But it is cold, it is wet, the sky is grey.

Dreams are marvelous. Never give up on your dreams, but make sure they line up with God’s plan for your life. “For in the multitude of dreams and many words there is also vanity. But fear God.” Ecclesiastes 5:7.

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Old Shacks and Broken Dreams

I’m a sucker for abandoned buildings. I want to hug them. I want to whack down weeds, plant flowers, fix the roof, paint the exterior, refurbish the interior. I want to change them from abandoned and unwanted to cherished.

I can’t explain it. I don’t know why neglected, unwanted shacks exert such a strong pull on me.

When I was living under a bridge in the back of my pickup truck I viewed every abandoned structure I spotted as a potential home. Why did no one live there? Why couldn’t I live there? How much money would it cost to buy it? To rent it? I would stare at it longingly and imagine what color I would paint it. I would note what repairs it needed and calculate how much it would cost and which damage I could repair on my own. I was pretty good with a hammer and I loved colors and painting.

Since then, I’ve owned a home. I helped build our house in Texas, even climbing up a metal extension ladder to the roof with 80-pound bundles of shingles over my shoulder. I painted our home inside and out with a paintbrush. I collected truck loads of flat rocks and did the rockwork around it. I built semi-circular stone steps up to the porch.

And, yet…I am bemused by abandoned buildings.

Now, here in Scotland, I live in a small, comfy rental house—which I also painted with a paintbrush, scaling a metal ladder to cut a nice straight line around the top of the exterior walls.

Still…unwanted structures whisper to my heart.

When my young son Luke and I lived in the Nevada desert, we loved visiting ghost towns and wandering through the empty buildings imagining the people who used to live there and the dreams—now broken, shattered dreams—that motivated them.

Now Luke is in his forever home. I’ll be joining him soon. This earth is not our home. We are just sojourners passing through. Even the bodies we live in down here on earth will be abandoned. Our bodies are mere shells that will be left here when our spirits rise to be with Jesus in Heaven where we will get new bodies.

So why am I a sucker for abandoned buildings? It must be empathy or compassion toward the former residents who stepped out of broken dreams and left them behind. No one likes broken dreams. It’s a comfort to know that Jesus promised that He was leaving this earth to return to Heaven and make a place for us there so we could follow Him.

And, yet…I’m a sucker for old buildings and broken dreams.

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Splendid Failures

I can’t sing. Really.

When I was in sixth grade, my grandmother made a gorgeous yellow dress for me to wear at our school’s Easter program. Then I learned that I was to be excluded from the Easter program because…I can’t sing. When the song leader saw the tears of disappointment weaving down my cheeks he said, “You come to the program. You wear that dress your grandmother made. You stand up on the stage with your class. You open and close your mouth. But don’t let any sound come out.”

So I wore my lovely yellow Easter dress and stood proudly on the stage opening and closing my mouth—doing my best not to let any noise escape. Years later in college, our drama professor’s wife, who held a doctorate in music, told me, “Stephanie, everyone can sing. I have never met anyone who can’t sing. I’ll work with you for one hour a day for the next week. You might not be good enough to get the lead in one of the musicals, but you can at least be in the chorus.”

On the first day, Mrs. Estes worked with me for thirty minutes. She stopped. She looked as confused as a blind dog in a sausage factory. “Stephanie,” she finally said, “I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but I can’t help you. You really can’t sing.”

And I still can’t sing. It’s one of the many splendid failures in my life. Splendid, because I am about to publish book number 41. If I had been able to sing—the count would never have reached even one. I would have been pouring myself into singing and performing the way I pour myself into writing. I would like to believe that God has allowed me to use the life experiences—joys, sorrows, disappointments, achievements—and weird, unusual things like getting tossed to the ground and bitten by a lion—to write books that entertain folks who my life would never have touched if I had lived my dream of singing.

“All things work together for good to those who love the Lord.” Romans 8:28.

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Dream Possible

One of my favorite songs is “The Impossible Dream,” written by Joe Darion and composed by Mitch Leigh. It is the most popular song from the musical “Man of la Mancha.

To dream the impossible dream
To fight the unbeatable foe
To bear with unbearable sorrow
To run where the brave dare not go.

To right the unrightable wrong
To be better far than you are
To try when your arms are too weary
To reach the unreachable star

This is my quest, to follow that star,
No matter how hopeless, no matter how far…

I love Man of La Mancha. I love “crazy” knight Don Quixote who tilts at windmills and lives to the extreme rather than allowing his dreams and visions to be tamed by society and turned into cookie-cutter realities.

I’ve spent my entire life and writing career encouraging others to reach for their dreams. I will probably spend the rest of my life giving the same advice. Yet, a comment from a neighbor recently made me realize that perhaps our dreams should in some way be possible. For example, I dreamed of being in my drama department’s musical productions at college and becoming a famous singer. I can’t carry a tune.

This neighbor said, “My husband and I dreamed of buying a two-story house and retiring here. We did, but now our knees have gone and our dream has become a nightmare. We can’t get up and down the stairs—and that’s where our bedroom is.”

With God, all things are possible. All things are possible with God. But wisdom may be contained in knowing how to dream the possible and trust God for the impossible.

Broken Dreams

Before we moved from Fortrose to Dunoon, Scotland, I made a brief foray into the land of Broken Dreams when I discovered a tarp-covered boat growing in a plot of brambles and tall weeds. Someone had dreamed of adventuring aboard that boat. It had once been a prized possession, as evidenced by the green tarp that had been lovingly gathered around the earth-bound boat for so long that one of the seats had broken through its protective covering. What shattered those watery dreams? Illness? Lack of time? Lack of money? New interests? Whatever the reason, the forgotten boat slips into oblivion in the land of Broken Dreams.

broken dream

It seems as if we have forgotten Paul’s wise advice in the Bible: “And having food and clothing, with these we shall be content.” (I Timothy 6:7)

Moving took us on a journey to the land of Broken Dreams. We had to condense 35 years of my husband’s ministry career from a seven-room house to a three-room house. Before the moving van arrived, we had already gifted furniture, books, clothes, and cool “things” to a Christian charity. When we got to the three-room house, we had to get rid of more so we could fit.

How many things do we need for survival and how much is space-wasting clutter? Folks who live in RVs, barges, boats, and tents (Yes, some folks live in tents, as per Miz Mike #3 mystery-romance-suspense “Bridge to Xanadu.) have a ready answer for what is vital to keep and what to toss. Space constraints point wobbly accusations at space raiders—things that we simply couldn’t live without when we first got them—and then realize we didn’t need after all.

Allow me to vent briefly. I get angry when people here in the UK talk about “wasteful Americans.” I have never lived anywhere in the US that didn’t have “fix-it” shops, that didn’t sell vacuum cleaner parts, or where folks didn’t continue driving their vehicles until long after they passed the 100,000-mile mark. Here, cars are shiny new. It’s hard to find an old one. No fix-it shops. Everything is tossed out when it breaks. It’s impossible to change the belt on a vacuum cleaner. They are solid molded plastic and don’t come apart. Folks are expected to throw them out and buy a new one when the belt breaks. Leftover food? “Health and safety” warns against it.

Not that my husband is wasteful. We eat everything. And I’ve lost track of what hubby brought with us to the new house and then discarded, including a huge ball of used rubber bands. He still has his set of “Word Studies in the Greek New Testament,” and enough history books from different countries to start his own library.

We found a rubber band outside on the ground yesterday. I picked in up and started to toss it in the garbage. He grabbed it out of my hand and said earnestly, “We should keep this. We might need it.”

I didn’t say a word.

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Dog in a Tree!

Dog in a tree talking to you? Nothing unusual if you are asleep and dreaming – it even makes sense!

Last night I dreamed about a room full of moving sandwiches. The sandwiches flew, tumbled about and prowled through the room at will. While I was dreaming, it seemed perfectly logical. My task in the dream was to protect the one sandwich that was wrapped in aluminum foil. As the sandwiches cavorted around the room, I kept my eyes fastened on the one in foil to make sure that the foil didn’t come off. Why? I have no idea – but it made sense in the dream.

Not that all dreams are nonsensical. I’ve had dreams in the past that came true. Those are frightening because it seems that they always come as warnings of impending death or danger – and there is nothing I can do to stop the event from happening.

The Bible records dreams as one method God uses to communicate with us. Using wisdom from God, both Joseph and Daniel interrupted dreams that saved lives and promoted them to positions of honor and authority.

There is nothing we can do to take control of the nonsensical dreams that perplex and entertain us during sleeping hours. Fortunately, God has given us waking-hour dreams to motivate us to change the world. Consider Martin Luther King’s “I Have A Dream” speech delivered on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial on August 28, 1963. His vision of a United States of America where freedom and equality walked hand-in-hand still resounds today and was named the top American speech of the 20^th Century.

Dreams do come true and dreams can change the world. Waking dreams are visions in walking shoes and working clothes. They are attainable – but only if we strive for them. As an author, I know this well. My dream to write books has never wavered or changed since I first dreamed it fifty years ago. Achieving that dream, however, has meant constantly striving and working toward it even in the face of bitter disappointment and disillusionment.

Not everyone dreams of becoming an author or writing books (which is good because the market is crowded!) Some dream of owning their own businesses, owning their own homes, becoming missionaries, traveling around the world on a bicycle. Different dreams – but all with the same measure of possibility and attainment. First step: put on the hiking boots and work clothes and prepare for a long journey!

Jesus did not leave us bereft when it comes to achieving our dreams. He said both, “With God all things are possible,” and “Nothing is impossible with God.”

So dream big and reach high. You can do it! Now, if you will excuse me – I’m going to look for that foil-wrapped sandwich and make sure it is still wrapped…

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Texas Grit

Dreaming and following your dreams is awesome, but success demands work, effort – and even a measure of true Texas grit.

For weeks now, I’ve wanted to get a picture of a house along the beach with the sun setting behind it, but it’s always been too clear, too cloudy, the wrong time of day, or I’ve been too far away. I wanted to capture the image for my sixth Miz Mike Bridge to Nowhere series. Sunpenny Publishing has yet to release the second one, but I’m working ahead to number six.

When Miz Mike leaves Texas to live in Scotland, she gets stuck in an isolated, lonely beach house. Even there – somehow – trouble finds her and she stirs up enough mystery, romance and suspense to entertain any reader – with a big dose of humor added.

When I went running today, I stuck the camera in my pocket. Since I’m running on a stress fracture, I stuck to the sandy beach. I turned around sooner than I usually do and headed home. I was too tired to run more. My foot was complaining. I hadn’t felt like running in the first place. Then I saw the sky. It was perfect for the picture I wanted…except.

Now to serve up the Texas grits – grit. To get to the cabin would mean turning around again and heading back down the beach, then cutting across a hard-packed path to the main road. Not only would it add about half-a-mile to the run I didn’t want to make in the first place, it would result in running on pavement – stress fracture and all.

I turned and went for it. Yes, my foot throbbed by the time I got home – but I had the picture. My entire writing career has been painful. Dream the dream, yes! Never give up on the dream. I didn’t, even after receiving 150 rejection slips (along with some checks!) over the span of forty-five years. Becoming known as “Author” Stephanie Parker McKean has taken work, effort – and even true Texas grit at times. Everyone brave enough to dream a dream must also be brave enough to make the journey to reach it.

Wise King Solomon got it right in Ecclesiastes 9:10, “Whatever your hand finds to do, do with all your might.”

Real Time Tortoise & Hare Story

I’ve always loved the Aesop’s Fable about the slow tortoise beating the boastful, confident hare in the race because the hare stopped to snooze. The other day, I experienced my own Tortoise & Hare moment.

I’m a slow runner. People watching me “run” might even call me a fast walker! But I can keep going for 4.2 miles, an accomplishment for someone over 60. Still, I’m slow.

Dressed in baggy jeans and sweaters – resembling no doubt a lumpy sock puppet – I went running. She passed me in a flash. She wore trendy, skintight running clothes and looked like a model that had been pulled off a magazine page and prodded to life. Feeling old and slow, I kept running.

At my turnaround point, there sat trendy glamor girl, talking on a cell phone and drinking a bottle of water. Feeling rather pleased with myself, I passed her. I ran down to the end of the trail, turned around and passed her again. By the time I had finished my two miles and was making the turn up toward the house, I saw her in the distance, her effortless, graceful run defeated by the slow-moving sock puppet who never stopped.

Life is often like that. I remind folks often not to give up on their dreams. I had 150 rejection slips before becoming a successful writer. Some of the publishing companies who rejected my manuscripts now follow me on Twitter! My published books include Bridge to Nowhere, by Sunpenny Publishing, and Love’s Beating Heart, Shadow Chase, Heart Shadows and Until the Shadows Flee. The newest mystery-romance-suspense book, Fear of Shadows will be out soon, and Sunpenny has committed to another Miz Mike “Bridge” series in the near future, Bridge Beyond Betrayal. So no matter how slow you think you are in life…never stop. Never give up.

Or as Hebrews 12:1 states, “Let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which so easily ensnares us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us.” Running with Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith, guarantees victory every time!