Most of the time my perspective of God's love and of the spiritual elements of the universe are still limited in my mind by the physical realms. Like it's hard to see or touch or taste or hear Him and recognize His love displaying itself actively. Like when my mom calls me and says, "Are you cold? You should put on a sweater," even though I am, perhaps, in the bath. She loves me and is thinking of me and trying to keep me warm from where she is, which is one mile due south. I can feel that and when I can't I can believe it anyway. But I cannot necessarily recognize, or perhaps accept, the active love of God.

Except for this one time. When over the course of eight years, through the same couple, He gave me my voice back and dropped a new pair of besties in me and my husband's laps. You see, I can sing. A little. Not like a lot. But enough that every once in a blue moon the person sitting in front of me at church will turn around when the music part is over and say something like, "You have such a lovely voice. You should be in the choir." But I wasn't. I grew up in school choir, singing at church, at friends weddings, the national anthem at basketball games, the types of things you do when you can sing a little. I even spent a few brief moments of my life in a recording studio desperately trying to work out in my mind what I was supposed to be doing with my life. Perhaps, singing. For lots of reasons that aren't the point, I grew totally insecure about singing during my early adult years.

Enter the Dyers. Mr. Dyer, Worship Pastor. Mrs. Dyer, Executive Producer. The power couple of your modern evangelical church. Not the kind of people I'm expecting to be friends with. Like ever. But during those moments when the random stranger would compliment me about my voice, I would wish, just for a moment, you know, not obsessively or anything, that Mr. or Mrs. Dyer would sit in front of me one Sunday, hear my voice and invite me to be part of the choir at our church. Total Pansy.

Enter Josh becomes an elder at our church. (gulp) And so now said powerhouse couple is getting to know Josh and all of the sudden I find Mrs. Dyer pursuing me. Now, I had never had a women pursue me before. I am the caretaker type, bordering on the verge of co-dependcy each and every day. So I am not a person who gets pursued by potential girlfriends. There is that. And there is also the fact that women are not generally great at reaching out to connect with women they don't already know, feel safe with and like, myself included. So I did what I always do when a new Christian is trying to get to know me, I questioned her intentions and kept my guard up. But she faithfully and persistently and gently pursued being my friend. Fast forward a year, and here we all are in Napa doing what you do in Napa.

And because he loves me and knows I am a pansy, during this year, Josh tells Mr. and Mrs. Dyer that I can sing, a little. So Mrs. Dyer every bit as faithfully as she pursued my friendship, pursues my voice. And when I show it to her and Mr. Dyer, well, I wept. A lot. I only sang, a little, but I wept a lot. Mr. Dyer validated me in a way that no one has been able to do in the course of me entire life and reminded me that using my voice to worship God was a good idea.

So now I am in choir. And Josh and I inherited one of our favorite couples on the planet. God didn't put them in the row in front of me one random Sunday at church; he brought them into my living room. And together we drink great wine and we dream great dreams. Like a lot.

Dyers and Dreams