What May Come

I don’t know how you feel about dreams, but I have a love-hate relationship with mine. I don’t mean interpretive dreams that would make Sigmund Freud drool. I mean dreams of those realistic, just-out-of-reach daytime things. 

Stop and smell the roses.

What are your thorns, exactly? Your flaws and imperfections. These work-in-progress parts of you are vital. They mark a space once tender, now ready to fend off untoward influence. Like your soft-petaled hopes and dreams, your prickles are vital. Think of them as boundaries. Where your leafy, nourishing goals are concerned, prickles have their rightful place on you. The next time a thorn grows, don’t remove it. Let it remind you of divine growth. Forgive whatever past weakness or transgression marked its formation. Allow it to be part of the whole you, not a scar of a shameful reminder. We all have thorns. Welcome to the garden of life.