Called Out

Friday night at the P31 OBS Retreat, Melissa talked about Dream Killers and asked us to write our dream on an index card.

I refused.

I knew my God-sized dream was to write. I didn’t need to write it down.

After the session, Shelly looks me straight in the eyes and says, “so what’s your dream?”

I proceeded to give her my standard response … I feel God called me to write — not anything like a book — but just on my blog.

Saturday at lunch, Nicki turns to me and says “Lisa B, do you have a book inside you?”

And I couldn’t not say yes.

I tried to lessen the dream God’s given me. And He called me out.

Thanks Nicki, Shelly, Melissa and Lisa A for letting God speak through you this weekend.

Dream Killer

I had a dream.

I wanted to be a writer. I was a writer. I wrote on this blog.

And then I went to a conference for writers. Some of the other blog writers I had been friends with only online, I got to meet in person.

But they were chosen. I was not.

So I stopped writing. Disenchanted. Envious.

Why were they chosen and I was not? No one needs to hear my story. There’s someone else out there that can tell it and probably tell it better than me.

Dream Killer. That’s me.

Some people say that they can’t not write. To which I laugh and say I’ve been doing a pretty good job of ignoring God for several years now.

This weekend as I listened to Melissa Taylor talk about Dream Killers and Lisa Allen talk about The Rhythm of a Dream, I’m starting to wake up now.

I have a dream.

I want to be a writer. I am a writer. I am writing on this blog.

So this is me … being a Dream Killer Killer … No more killing my dreams. No more listening to the negative thoughts.

I am a writer. I just need to write.

{Special thanks to Shelly for pulling this out of me. Now send me your blog login information so I can fix it!}

I lost a dream.

Have you seen it?

It was here 4 years ago.

Maybe it’s under that pile of hurt. Not chosen to write on that blog with all my friends.

Or that one. Not chosen to speak at that conference.

Possibly under that layer of jealousy. She did something I’ve been thinking of for years.

One sure thing.

God doesn’t forget. He gave me the dream of writing.

Not writing a book. Not writing magazine articles.

Just writing on my blog.

He reminded me last week at She Speaks — what my dream was.

I buried it under busyness and code.

Ignoring all of His promptings.

Now I must find it.

And know, just writing on my blog is enough when that’s what He’s called me to do.