Wednesday, March 12, 2014

True Confessions of a Dreamer

Dare to dream!  If you did not have the capability to make your wildest wishes come true, your mind would not have the capacity to conjure such ideas in the first place.  There is no limitation on what you can potentially achieve, except for the limitation you choose to impose on your own imagination.  What you believe to be possible will always come to pass - to the extent that you deem it possible.  It really is as simple as that.  - Anthon St. Maarten

Most mornings, I wake up in another country.

Each morning is different, although I'll admit it was easier when I was living in my last apartment.  The high vantage point made it easy to imagine quaint Italian villages, or I could just as quickly find myself among the rolling hills of Ireland or between volcanoes in Latin America.  My current apartment has bedroom windows that open to another building.  It's not the best, but I can still envision a small, sparse apartment within a bustling city in Africa, or a sleek high rise in Australia.  It doesn't have to be a country I've visited before, and for a while, it was a treat to wake up in the morning and open the blinds.  I wasn't sure what I would find.

Yesterday morning, I woke up in Nicaragua.  It was early in the morning, somewhere around 6:30am, although it felt more like 5:30am with the recent time change.  I'm almost never up at this hour, and although my mind was alert, my body was tired.  I laid in bed, listening to the birds chirping outside my window, and I held on to the idea that, if I opened my eyes, I would suddenly find myself back in 2009 on La Finca Magdalena.

My cozy, fluffy bed became a cot, the fabric tight and covered with my orange twin extra long sheets.  It's one of 15 exactly like it, but mine is positioned in the middle of the hardwood floor of the girls room.  The room has wide wooden doors that slam shut in the wind, and not enough electrical outlets to meet the demands of the American visitors.  There's space between the walls and roof, allowing in light and air and all sorts of four legged visitors.

It was easy to imagine waking up, stretching, and opening the heavy doors as quietly as possible.  The wind is warm, rustling the hammocks that hang on the porch.  My eyes are assaulted by the vibrant colors - green, red, and yellow cover my field of vision.  My ears perk up at the sound of happy morning chatter coming from animals and people alike, languages mixing among one another.  My stomach is tempted by the smell of breakfast - gallo pinto, tortillas con crema, huevos, and fresh fruit juices.  My coral colored Crocs squeak across the white tile floor of the co-ed bathroom as I head in to wash my face in the cold spring water.  I'm careful to keep my eyes down, not wanting to unknowingly step on a wandering critter.

The day is pregnant with possibility.  We don't know our schedule beforehand and operating on "Nica time" often means things don't happen as planned anyway.  I remember to step down as I make my way to the picnic tables, covered in blue tablecloths, that will serve as our dining room table for the week.  Many travellers are already awake, and I am welcomed with a "good morning" and the offer of coffee.

Just as I begin to invest in the moment, my eyes open and I realize I was dreaming.  My chest gets a little tighter when I come to and see I'm not in Nicaragua.  Instead I'm cocooned in my cozy, plush bed, the light streaming in between the blinds and the birds singing in the day.  While it's not a bad place to be, I am starkly aware of my heart's desire to return to small cots, crowded rooms, excitement and adventure.  I know my time will come, so for now I will sleep well and wake up to something unexpected each day.

Wait for the LORD;
be strong and take heart
and wait for the LORD.
-Psalm 27:14

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