I’ve been a dreamer all my life. I live in my imagination. When my dreams feel full of possibility and hope—there is nothing I would rather do than imagine. As most dreamers do, I married a planner. I like that my husband makes plans.
We both like to think about the future, just in different ways. He can tell you what year he thinks we will purchase our next home, why we will move, our projected income for that year, how much moving will cost—even factoring in inflation. He’s a financial advisor so thinking ahead is what he does, preparing people for the future with strategy and precision.
Over the years, his approach has influenced me. I’ve learned how to take my dreams and break them down into steps, transforming ideas into tangible goals. It made me feel like I had some control over how my life would unfold. My dreams were carefully broken down into manageable steps that I could check off like a to-do list.
But what happens when life doesn’t follow the plan?
Pregnancy complications, a traumatic birth, and a difficult postpartum season shattered my carefully imagined future. It wasn’t just that things didn’t go as I expected; it was that they changed me in ways I never saw coming.
And I know I’m not the only one. We all experience seasons where our plans unravel—an illness, a job loss, a breakup, an unforeseen heartbreak. Moments when the future we pictured disappears, and we’re left wondering what comes next.
We face unexpected challenges, unanticipated changes in direction, we make the hard decisions we are forced to make when life is unfair and it feels like the cards we were dealt are something we wish we could return.
I used to like planning when it worked alongside my dreams. Even though I’ve never been a spreadsheet person, I’ve had an internal sense of timing—when I thought certain prayers would come to fruition and when hopes would become reality.
But when my world shifted, my dreams felt chaotic and uncertain, and decision making felt paralyzing.
I wanted clarity. I want to know what’s next. I want to hear from God and take the next clear step. But what do you do if there isn’t one?
My mindset has slowly shifted as I’ve come to realize there isn’t always a right or wrong answer. There isn’t always even a clear direction. The vision for my life isn’t a five-year-plan—it’s about moving toward hope.
Not a vague, wishful optimism. Not a reckless “do what feels good” kind of faith. But a simple, daily posture of asking: Where do I sense God right now? And then, going there.
This has happened in small ways for me. Sometimes it’s calling to check in on a friend or deciding to take a long walk outside. Sometimes it’s baking something for fun to drop by a neighbor’s house.
In my creative life, I didn’t make a big plan or have a big vision for transitioning this newsletter to an additional podcast format. I just knew I enjoyed podcasting, that people resonated with Holy Labor, and that it felt hopeful to me. So I followed that sense of joy, and God met me there.
I still wrestle with uncertainty. Sometimes I feel guilty for not having a clear vision. My mind echoes the verse without vision the people perish and I wonder if I’m missing something.
But another part of me thinks vision doesn’t have to be a perfectly clear step-by-step plan.
What if vision is simply becoming a more generous, more caring, more hopeful and kind version of myself? What if the vision is less about what I accomplish and more about who I become?
I’m starting to think we don’t need to have everything figured out to move into a meaningful, fulfilling life. Actually, when I reflect on my life some of God’s greatest gifts to me have been a big surprise. They were unexpected and unplanned and yet, they were exactly what I needed.
While I don’t have a polished plan or goal for what’s next, I do know this: I want more hope. And that’s where I’m heading.
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