God's Plans Are Always Bigger Than Our Dreams

I can remember as far back at Kindergarten when I was asked the question: "What do you want to be when you grow up?" Kids at that age gave answers such as cowboy, princess, ballerina, cop, etc. When I was in 2nd or 3rd grade, the question was asked again. I can remember the teacher asking us to write down two or three professions we hope to be in when we are older. I remember writing down "singer or professional soccer player." The older I got, the list surprisingly didn't change, except for the realization that I would never make it as a pro soccer player.

When I was a sophomore in high school, I felt a pull toward the police force. I really wanted to go into the military, but because of certain medical issues, I knew it probably wouldn't happen. My dad was a Scout Master, and one of his former scouts was now a local police officer. I spoke with him when he came to scouting events from time to time to provide support. He talked me through what to expect and what to prepare myself for. As I got through my Junior year of high school, it was what I wanted to do. I thought I was meant to be a cop. My senior year rolled around, and I began applying to colleges early. Before I applied, I was looking at schools for criminal justice. I was determined and excited until I got a phone call that changed everything. My brother, who was almost 4 years older than me, called me to see what I was planning to do about college and where/what I wanted to study. I told him I was looking at schools for criminal justice, and it didn't take long for that to change. My brother spoke of his concerns, not because he didn't think I could do it, but because he didn't want a phone call saying I had been injured or worse in the line of duty. He didn't want something to happen to his little sister.

Now everything changed. I am a pretty strong-willed person who does what she wants. It was rare for my brother to really try to sway me away from something because he knew my personality and how I would do what I was determined to do, even if it meant doing it alone. The fact that my big brother said something to me hit differently. I had/have the utmost respect for law enforcement and first responders. I wanted to be part of that family of folks willing to serve others. Now what was I supposed to do?

Singing was a passion. I loved it. I sang loud and proud in my room when I blasted my music, channeling whichever artist I was listening to. I joined the church choir when I was 12. I took private voice lessons and joined an elite music group in 7th and 8th grade. I was in musicals, and the school choir, and I competed at district Solo and Ensemble, where I made it to state my senior year. Music was literally life, so what was I supposed to do? I changed my studies and applied to schools with music programs. Viterbo, UW-Platteville, and West Virginia University. I was a good student and graduated with honors; however, I was not the best student, and my ACT scores indicated I was barely qualified. Somehow, I had acceptance letters from all three. After a lot of debate, discussion of concerns and fears, and consideration of extenuating circumstances, I ended up at the University of Wisconsin-Platteville.

I truly thought music was supposed to be my path. I originally went in with two trains of thought: 1) Become a music teacher (which is what I started out as) and 2)get a music degree and take off to New York or Chicago and audition for shows for 6-12 months to see what happens. I went through 3 years of school before it became apparent that I was not going to make it in this field. It wasn't because I didn't have a skill, it was because a larger force was trying to get my attention, I just didn't want to see it. I suffered two vocal injuries by the time I started my Senior year. The specialist told me that I would not last as a teacher and that my career would be over in 5 years because my vocal cords would not be able to handle it. I nearly left school with one semester left because I was so angry and frustrated that what I was working for was no longer an option. My dream of music was taken from me; I didn't know what to do or how to respond. I was in finals week of my fall semester when I got word from the department that if I couldn't sing, I couldn't graduate. No option was provided other than for me to perform a full recital. I was snowed in at a friend's apartment for finals week. I got this email while sitting in her bedroom. The anger and tears that surfaced were so intense. How? How could I get this far and this close, and be told, "No." Where was God? Why did he let this happen? Why did he let me get this close to completing my degree, only to tell me it wouldn't happen? What was the point? What was I supposed to do?

No one around me could understand. They tried to support, they listened, and offered encouragement. No one knew the depth of the pain. Even at 21, a person who was brought up in the faith didn't understand how God could do this. How can he let us think our dreams might come true and then crush them? I strongly considered dropping out of college because I couldn't sing. Why go back? I met with the specialist right before the semester. My vocal cords showed improvement after 4 months of rest. He wasn't keen on my returning to vigorous rehearsals until I told him about my dilemma. He gave me the green light with extreme caution. I went back to school, finished my degree, and performed a recital in "record time."

I left college feeling lost and defeated. I worked as a substitute teacher for a couple of years, but it became clear to me that I was not meant to be in this setting. I loved the kids, and I loved having the time to help them learn and grow; however, I hated the politics and egos that came with working under certain principal personalities. I still loved music but had lost the drive I once had for it. It was more of a special hobby than it was a desire for a career. Within a couple of years, I felt a pull into ministry. I face a lot of backlash from people in my "inner circle." Some told me I didn't need to go back to school. Others told me I could help at a church without worrying about becoming a pastor or whatever it was I felt God leading me toward. I went through more darkness and life journey difficulties, which, again, had me questioning where God was and how He could lead me in a direction while still feeling so absent. I didn't want to follow this call; I didn't want this dream he had for me. I wanted to do things my way, in my own time.

In time (4 years), I finally felt a sense of peace. It wasn't until I left the state (literal state in the USA and emotional/mental state) that I was able to put my focus where it should be. I was so focused on my world and what I wanted that I forgot that I am called to follow Him. I chose to claim him as my Lord and Savior. I chose to make that commitment to Him. I am the one who kept failing to hold up my end of the relationship.

He was always there. He was there, sitting next to me, when I was at a bar drinking away my sorrows because I was 21 and didn't understand the point of my dream being crushed. He was there, right beside me, when I wanted to quit school even though I was one semester away from being done. He was there, sitting beside me at the park, when I was by the river on the boat ramp, and I needed to just get away from the noise around me. He was there when I made a bad choice and had an affair. He walked with me through each moment when I was accountable for my actions and took full responsibility for it all. He was there in therapy as I faced the many ways I destroyed myself and others. He was there when I left the church (as a lay person) after I had been thrown to the wolves by multiple pastors. He was there, in every car ride when I was hanging on to dear life by a thread, no one truly knowing how dark it was and how each overpass looked like an easy way out. He was there when, over a year later, my then-husband and I amicably parted ways because we wanted happiness for each other, and we just couldn't do it. He was there, in the car, when I got hired at WellSpan and moved from Wisconsin to Pennsylvania. He was there when I had no intention of returning to church ministry, and he made it well known. He was there when I was asked to take over my home church after the pastor retired. He was there when I was offered the job, but was truly terrified to return to the kind of place that had caused hurt.

He has been there, through each storm, and in the end, it was his plan that brought the most joy in my life. His plan was to put me here (for now...always open to his plan). To get to this point, I had to surrender the dreams I had for myself. I had to realize that the world I had pictured for myself was not God's plan. For those reading this, I want to be very clear: Just because your dreams aren't working out doesn't mean God is calling you into the same type of ministry he called me into. Your dreams, that might feel big to you, are small compared to the dream God has for you. To get to the dream that God has for you, you will have to go through trials. You will need to mourn what you thought you wanted for yourself. You will need to let go of some folks in your life who might hinder you from his plan for you. When Jesus called his disciples, he took them away from careers in which they were successful. Peter, Andrew, James, and John were fishermen by trade and were good at it. Judas was a businessman. Simon the Zealot was an elite "good-guy-bad-guy" and highly skilled within his group. All 12 had to decide: Do I stay where I am because I am good at it, or do I leave it all behind for a chance at something bigger? God's plans are always bigger than our dreams.

Isaiah 55:8-9 says, "My plans aren’t your plans, nor are your ways my ways, says the Lord. Just as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my plans than your plans."