Guest Post – Lauren Sykes

Tuesdays and Thursdays throughout April & May (and beyond) I have dedicated to guest writers. Today I’m pleased to introduce you to a fellow Chick-fil-a lover; Lauren is the individual to blame for my current addiction. The beauty and vulnerability she displays in her writing is something I greatly admire. I can’t wait to meet her in person this summer! Also...tomorrow is her birthday!! So, leave her some birthday season love, because we all know how much I love a good birthday celebration!

Interest in submitting your own guest post? Email me for more information!

a recovering dreamer. . .

i am a dreamer.

and what is a dreamer to do when they awake surrounded by the shattered glass of their dreams? watching hopes crumble simultaneously in an instant.  leaving razor sharp edges poised to pierce the already fatal wound.

i was paralyzed. crippled.  left with tattered shreds of my heart created by the initial blow. as time wore on, i knew i had to move.  as the gypsy dreamer in me fought to stand again.  but knowing i was surrounded by glass.  and with skin exposed i knew that could only mean one thing. . .

more piercing and wounding ahead.

i had two options. . .

{1} do my best to cling tightly to the shards that remained or

{2} step forward.

i could live in my past or limp into my future. both were going to hurt.  one would inflict much greater pain at the onset while the other tiny cuts piercing for a lifetime.

initially, i clung tightly to the shards that remained.  helplessly grasping at the broken pieces of my dreams shredding my hands over and over. attempting with everything i had to super-glue it all back together again.  believing i could never be happy anywhere but the place i resided just hours before.  happily engaged to my beloved.  our greatest disagreement revolving around rehearsal dinners and seating charts.

i couldn’t. . .wouldn’t move. willing the glass surrounding to seamlessly repair itself.

the pain of continually trying to put those pieces back together was excruciating.  i suddenly realized i couldn’t fix it. couldn’t repair it.  nor was i meant to.

i had to move. knowing if i lived in the past i would be right where the enemy wanted me. . .stagnant and ineffective. and from day one i resolved that the Lord was going to get every ounce of the glory in my pain. . .even if it killed me.  only then would it be worth it.

so i took a step forward.

glass embedding in the soles of my feet as i walked.  stopping long enough for my Daddy to pour stinging disinfectant in new wounds before gently removing glass.  rubbing His healing salve from the inside out.  knowing it was the only way to heal all the while balking at the pain.

one step turned into two. . .

then three. . .

and four. . .

the walking has been anything but beautiful. more often than not, it is a glorified limp accompanied by tears streaming and chest heaving. but i keep walking.  at times stopping to rest.  allowing the pain to wash over once again and overwhelm for a moment.  but only a moment.  always allowing a wave of His love to wash over the pain that remains.

my story is far from over and healing still incomplete.  but i know the only way the dreamer in me can be re-birthed is from a deep place of healing. my Daddy has begun that re-birth in my own heart despite the devastation that remains.  and the more i delight in Him. . .

. . .the more i believe the truth of His words.

delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart.
-psalm 37:4 {esv}

and we know that for those who love God, all things to work together for good, for those who are called according to His purpose.
-romans 8:28 {esv}

how do you cope when your dreams shatter?

lauren is a twenty-something living under the shadow of His wings as she copes with an unexpected broken engagement. her bones have been shattered and heart broken, but she is trusting the Lord to heal her broken places. . .and doing her best to rejoice in the meantime. she blogs about raw and ugly realities of her journey at beautifully broken.




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courtesy of

I bought my kids piggy banks. This way they can store up their pennies, nickels, and dimes for the future.

Tucked away in the dark, the coins accumulate and wait for a future day when they will be redeemed for toys or candy.

I have a piggy bank, too. Mine isn’t full of copper and silver; mine’s full of dreams.

I slip them, one by one, into the slot for that someday in the future when they will be used.

Occasionally I take them out and count them, marveling over their potential. Then back into the jar they go.

This way they’re safe; nothing can ruin them.

Not ridicule.

Not fear.

Not failure.

God wants to smash my piggy bank.

He wants to show me the dreams He has stored up for me; dreams that show how stale and insignificant my dreams are.

Dreams that are immeasurably more…

Because my dreams are all for me, and His dreams are for the good of all.

**Check out the other posts on Brokenness @ Bridget’s One Word at a Time Blog Carnival