My dream was like a flower

It was planted
watered, fertilized and warmed by the sun.
The tiny plant grew, delicate roots spread and gave support to the seedling that became a plant.
A bud appeared on my flower and burst open to it's fullest Glory.

For a Season, maybe even two
my flower lives.

A harsh Season comes upon it and the flower begins to suffer.
It closes up.
Drys up, fragrant petals fall to the ground.
My flower is dead.

My dream is dead.


Time passes and the wind blows.
Spring comes again.
Wait.
Look, something in my garden is stirring.
Two tiny seedlings break forth out of the fertile soil that
has been watered well, with my tears.

Unseen by my human eyes, the dead flower had cast down
seeds before it faded completely.
The seeds were hope.
These tiny flower seeds have brought an even greater garden.

I have a new dream.
My dream is alive.


(This was written during a difficult season that I went through. Near the end, I began to feel hope creep back in my heart and believed that God would give me new dreams and restore joy to me. Jesus really is the dream giver and He loves to see us soar. I pray that you would all dare to dream again. You can trust Him.)