Dreamweaver

As I started this column, I was humming melodies from the “dream” playlist Pastor Nate Bebout used in his Sunday sermon. Those notes have staying power:  remember Hall and Oates singing “You Make My Dreams Come True,” Heart’s rendition of “These Dreams,” and the Eurhythmics with “Sweet Dreams Are Made of This”? Judy Garland has pitched in to the concert in my head with “Somewhere Over the Rainbow,” as has Gary Wright with “Dream Weaver,” inspired by John Lennon as a weaver of dreams in the 1960s. 

Julia Cameron tells us: “We are meant to midwife dreams for one another.” In these COVID-19 days, it’s challenging to sustain enough energy to dream our own dreams of what could be, instead of succumbing to the nightmares of today. Can we possibly come alongside to wave the dream-weaving wand over someone else?

As a Salvation Army officer, I wore a number of hats, including my dad’s expression of “chief cook and bottle-washer.” One of my favorites was dream weaver, helping teens to see the possibilities of the future, encouraging co-workers to complete a college degree, or counseling with a couple in preparation for marriage. 

The development of the Ashland Kroc Center was the ultimate of dream-weaving, as our Ashland team braided together the passion of Salvation Army founders Catherine and William Booth with the vision of benefactor Joan Kroc, framed by the hopes and dreams of the Ashland community. Now, much of that facility is currently “in waiting,” watching to see what the next months will bring, but its pantry, in the non-descript annex, is a lifeline to hundreds of Ashlanders. Who knew that the glorious stained glass of the chapel and the refreshing waters of the spraypark would give up the limelight for its shelves of food in the spring of 2020?    

Yes, dream-weaver. In retirement, I am privileged to work with rookie authors, bringing the dream of their own book to life. I’ve also been present through the labor and delivery of seminary students as they’ve studied, researched, written and groaned to attain the doctor of ministry mantle. That’s midwifery at its best, without the blood and bodily fluids. 

I love watching dreams being fulfilled, but in these days, the thought of dreaming of the future is overwhelming. How does the graduating senior even start to dream? The NFL draft choice? The budding musician, the blushing bride, the Olympic hopeful?

How dare we risk dreaming of a brighter future when we may not have a job to go back to when this is over? When our dream house could go into foreclosure, when our dream business struggles to survive, or when our worst nightmare comes true as a loved one contracts the virus?  Will it ever be over? No wonder we lose heart. 

And yet, the dreams still beckon. We return again and again to the lab, we write songs, we fumble through eighth grade algebra, and we plant trees. In our dreaming, we envision a return to the beach and Broadway, the mountains and the library,  if not soon, then someday. In our dreaming, we even see the words Browns and Super Bowl, or Cleveland and World Series in the same headline. Yes, Gary Wright, “I believe we can reach the morning light.”

For today, it’s enough to claim the tiny dreams of a haircut and a pedicure, of tea parties and back yard barbeques, and maybe, just maybe, Friday night football. We pray for “strength for today,” because that’s what we need for today. But, like the hymnist Thomas Chisolm, we don’t stop there. “Strength for today,” yes, but he joins that practical plea with this vision: “bright hope for tomorrow.”  

This week, in the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic, the lovely Madelyn Simone (age ten), asked for a typewriter so she can begin writing her book. In a dusty closet at the church where she works, Madelyn’s maternal grandmother found an old Smith-Corona for her. 

Dream on, sweet girl. Dream for those of us who are losing our way, our hopes and dreams. Birth what is stirring within you. Because, somewhere, over the rainbow, “the dreams that you dare to dream really will come true.”