I know a little something about unmet dreams. Eleven years ago God unveiled the dream that my heart had hinted at since childhood.

I inherited my love of music from my mother. If she wasn’t singing, she was humming. And she often played the piano in the evenings.

Songs buried themselves in my heart, and music became my way of dealing with life. But music was never really my dream…or so I thought.

I was in my early twenties when I fell in love with music all over again, particularly singing.

The dream of being a singer-songwriter came late one afternoon. I thought it a bit ridiculous. Nevertheless, I began trying to pursue my dream. I was singing frequently, but I hit one dead end after another at the songwriting until I finally gave up.

I blamed God for the dead ends, and turned my back on Him. Singing and songwriting became a distant memory.

Slowly, I began to sing again. But the dream was dead…until God brought someone into my life who showed me that the dream was merely dormant.

Nearly ten years after the birth and death of the dream, it was alive again. It looked different this time. Ten years of life circumstances can’t help but change the finer points of a dream.

A year ago, around Christmas, I received a shipment of 1,000 copies of the CD I’d recorded…of songs I’d helped write. The dream was in full motion, and the next steps excited me the most: getting the music in the hands of people who wanted to hear it, as well as performing the songs live.

Circumstances I still don’t understand and can’t control began to take place, and frustration began to set in. Plans unraveled.

I never held a CD release event. I only had the opportunity to sing my songs live a few times. I still have over 800 CDs sitting in my garage.

There are dead ends at every turn. And I see no way the dream will ever reach its completion. I failed. And failure seems to be the final word in this dream.

Yet God has given me a sign of hope and has reiterated it. I wrote yesterday about the sign in the wind. After publishing here on the blog, I didn’t expect more. The wind had been enough to bring me to my knees.

Last night, I went to bed wide awake. I flipped on the TV and channel surfed until I landed on Joel Osteen. {Yes, I like him. No, I don’t think he’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Do I agree with every word that comes out of his mouth? No. But I don’t agree with every word that comes out of anybody’s mouth.} It must’ve been a previously aired show, but the message was meant for me at that moment.

The subject of the message was how God shifts winds in people’s favor in order to fulfill the plans he has for them. He spoke about how it only takes one shift…one breath of the Spirit…to change everything. He used three or four Biblical examples of people who had everything going against them, and how the favor of God changed their lives. Gideon was one of the examples…the very man to whom I had compared myself in yesterday’s post.

I wish I could adequately explain to you how overwhelming this was for me. Not only did God answer my silly prayer for a sign, but He went further by using this TV pastor {the man I have been questioned repeatedly for listening to} to drive hope into my spirit. I laid in my bed, tears streaming down my face as I gave in to the possibility that God is not done yet, despite the defeating circumstances…despite what appears to be a failed dream.

I have no idea what’s next. I don’t know how, when or where the winds will shift. I don’t even know what the rest of this very day holds, but I’m believing that God has given me hope for a reason. I’m believing that He will fulfill the dream he tucked deep into my heart as a child. And I’m believing that however He chooses to do it will be nothing short of a miracle for which only He will receive credit.