I would not have dared to dream it.

Today I took a look at the life I have and I realized that ten years, five years, one year ago, as I was trying to decide what I would pursue, trying to decide what I would do, where I would go, what activities I would participate in when I graduated and was finally free to choose... as I wondered, as I waited, as I agonized, as I procrastinated and put off planning out of fear, as I eagerly got an idea and pursued it...

...even one year ago, I would not have dared to dream of the life I have now.  I would not have dared to dream that it could happen.  That I could have so many of the desires that have followed me throughout my life.  Pursuing them would have seemed rash, doomed to failure.  And they dropped right in my lap.

I dreamed of a full-time job doing engineering.  Starting four years ago, anyway; before that I did not know to dream even that, I only dreamed of something mathematical.  Maybe some chip-design for some tolerably respected company.  A little over a year ago, I learned to my chagrin that most companies hiring electrical engineers for the branch which borders on computer engineering wanted a master's degree, but I held out hope that my qualifications might yet land me a job in a relatively timely fashion without the need for that extra time in school which I was not emotionally up for right then, not after five long years.  But a job for Intel?  Chip design for the most respected chip maker in the world, one which supports its employees, one which really hopes that you will still be happily working for them decades later and treats you accordingly?  I did not dare to dream that.

I dreamed of getting to go on a few memorable weekend hikes and/or camping trips with friends.  One or two a year.  Ideally in forest.  But to get to go on gorgeous hikes regularly, so that going a month without is very rare?  I did not dare to dream that.

I daydreamed about forest.  I have always loved forest with all my heart, more than any other kind of terrain.  Forest and mountains.  Old wood.  Clean smells.  Green, green everywhere, my favorite color.  Frequent rain.  Awe-inspiring chasms filled with trees, trees, are what I have loved more than anything since the first time I laid eyes on King's Canyon National Park the summer before my fifth grade year.  To visit these places on a yearly basis was a dream.  To live with forest literally outside my window, with miles and miles of forested mountains within an hour's drive?  That is beyond anything I dared to dream.

Or if I toyed with the notion, I threw it aside.  For I love cities a little too much to give them up.  Havens of culture.  Places to meet people, to visit libraries, to listen to choirs, to go to a good-sized church.  Places where I could work surrounded by others.  Places with good Internet and phone service.  So of course I could not live in a forest happily.  I had to live in or at least very near a city.  So it was hopeless.  Something I never dared to dream.  Until I moved here and discovered that was just what I had acquired almost by accident.  Forest and mountains and city too.

A safer place, a place with friendlier, less suspicious people.  I imagined it, but I did not dare to dream it.

All this, but I wanted a place with a community of friends.  One person at least, one good friend, who could introduce me to their friends, and have it spread from there.  And thanks to my brother Robert, his wife (then fiancee) Laura, and their awesome friends, friends who quickly began inviting me to events even when Robert wasn't going, Oregon passed that test on top of these.  I had an in.  And now I have a community.  Varied and strong and oh-so-interesting and fun.  I dreamed of this, but it turned out better than I dreamed, and anyway I did not dare to mentally claim it as a goal; all my dreams were longings I expected to go unfulfilled.  I expected to live in Los Angeles among my dear friends whom I made gradually, so gradually, and, if I moved, to have trouble for at least my first half year, to continually need to call my old friends just to stay sane.  I did not dare to dream this.

I dreamed of getting to tutor, to help a few people with their math.  I did not pursue it as I originally intended, but about three or four weeks ago, a conversation with a boy I know turned into a thrill when he, on his own, went and grabbed pencil and paper so I could show him some math concept I was talking about, and then we spent the next good while going over miscellaneous math concepts to our mutual delight.  Now I get the chance to tutor him every week, and another family of mutual friends another night every week.  It is so much fun, more fun than I ever dreamed (such bright kids, so fun to watch their eyes light up!  We played with legos and talked about math at the same time!), and it all fell into my lap. I did not dare to dream this - not this.

I dreamed of singing, and I am a part of Intel Singers, an employee group that meets during lunch once a week, and I sing at church as well.  I wanted it, but was not properly pursuing either... but the opportunity was pressed upon me.  I couldn't figure out who to contact about Intel Singers and wasn't willing to take my best guess - an advertisement appeared on the screen of rotating announcements near the elevators which told me.  I was feeling shy about mentioning to the worship director that I could sing - three or four separate people told me each week that I should talk to him until I finally did.

All that is left is for an opportunity to write - and the time to manage it - to fall into my lap.  Or perhaps the perfect roommate(s).  Or more likely something else I would not dare even to dream.

Ah, dear Lord, I can hardly wait to see what You will do next.

Not everything is perfect, of course, and not everything is quite as fun as I dreamed.  But the sum is better than the dream by far.

God is good, and what He has done for me this year has surpassed my wildest dreams.

Perhaps more hardship will come; perhaps some of these gains will prove to be transitory.  Perhaps.  Then again perhaps not.  Either way, this past year proves to me that I am incredibly loved.  That what hardships may come are for my good, to strengthen me and not to harm me.

Last April was when I got an email in my school inbox that informed me that Intel was hiring microprocessor design engineers.  Last April was when I felt a sudden surge of shocked hope and my dreams began to change.  Last June was when they flew me up for an interview and I felt my heart sway toward this beautiful place as I spent time with Robert and Laura and their friends.  Last August was when I arrived here and began this new, crazy, wonderful stage of my life.  Here I am... and I love it.

Press On

When my insecurities rise up once again, it's time to press on.

When the thought of doing something seems cripplingly terrifying even though I know in my head that it's not so bad, it's time to press on.

When I'm bored and my mind wants to wander from something valuable to something silly, from my job to miscellaneous personal thoughts, it's time to press on.

When I feel angry or hurt or embarrassed without cause, or even with cause, it's time to press on.

When I fall flat on my face, it's time to get up and press on.

When I'm lazy and waste time, it's time to get up and press on.

When I need to press on, I have friends who can encourage me, including one very special friend who tells me to take courage.

When I need to press on, I have people who I know will accept me even if I fail to break through the wall, people who will cheer my success when the wall breaks at last.

When I need to press on, I have God, who delights to give me strength and encouragement.

When I press on, I receive blessings that go far beyond the difficulty, blessings which are all the greater when it was so hard I wanted to cry as I looked ahead to what I had to do.

When I press on, I become stronger, and the next time I need to press on it is easier.

When I press on, God uses me, and others are blessed.

When I press on, I see how much I am loved.


*I do not speak of pressing on when with sober judgment you know that the battle is not worth the prize.  But so often the prize is worth it, and we do not receive only because we are unwilling to strive, to persevere, to press on.