Skip to main content

Dreamer's Portfolio




  Ever since I was a little “pink” girl, I’ve been a glittery dreamer.  I loved horses with a wild
obsession, and still do to this 30th year.  When I was little, horses ran wild in my room.  You could hear Breyer horses and other plastic hoofs galloping across “Green Carpet Prairie” making their way to “Bookshelf Mountains”.   I can also remember driving in the Michigan country and I would always yell, “Horses!”  To some people, they aren’t important, but they stir my “Mustang spirit”.  That spirit still lives within me.  It’s like Secretariat at the gate waiting to pounce when the gate flies open.  I used to be timid and shy, but a dreamer soul was inside, growing.  I am now a 30 year old woman, brave and strong.  The timidity wakes on the dust behind my mare-like spirit.  I’m running the race, wishing and hoping for dreams to come true.  This is my dreamer portfolio…

When I was about sixteen, I took English riding lessons.  Of course, my dad thought I was a natural.  I’d tack my strong steed and trot around the sooty ring.  I trusted the buckskin work-horse beneath my chaps.  We had an understanding, a trustworthy contract.  Take care of me and I will honor you.  Dually, let’s ride into the sunny field.  We could feel each other's breaths.  Our hearts were compiled into one as we budded into a canter.  Trot, canter, trot, walk.  Good job, Dually, my friend.  The sun is setting over Michigan Oaks.  To the red barn we’d walk.  The lesson was at a country dusk end.  To some, horses are fearsome giants, but I felt safe and a “saddle-like” comfort.  I felt free as a maple leaf on the meadow breeze.  With my black Dublin boots in the silver stirrups, I’d look straight ahead.  Post, post, post.  Let’s trot Dually, to daydreams beyond.  “Dad, I want to be in the Olympics.”  I think I want to be an Equestrian rider.       

My dad and I would have deep conversations under lamplight.  Red words of the Bible would set an apple glow.  We would search books and chapters for Leviathan and other intrigues.  “Dad, where do you think the Ark of the Covenant is?”  “Dad, how big was the ark”.  “Dad, were there queens in the Bible?”  Question after question delve into the night.  He knew my love for horses grew rampant.  I mean, who doesn’t?  With that daddy knowledge, he dog-eared scripture in Job about the horse.  “Brandy, it even talks about a unicorn in the Bible.”  Really?  How much more is there in the Bible to explore?  Mysteries set me on archeologist fire!  I was ready that night to trek the sands of Egypt.  I was ready to carve pottery out of Jerusalem land.  I think I want to be an archeologist…

“Brandy, go get ready for ballet class.” My mom would tell me every Wednesday.  I’d run upstairs, slip on my leotard and shimmy on my tights.  We’d get to class and I’d slip on the icing, my pink ballet shoes.  Five, six, seven, eight…plie.  I grasped the ballet bar, my seven year old hands stretching into the air.  I twirled out of the dance room for 13 years.  I then looked in the mirror and pirouetted into a twenty year old ballerina.  When I danced ballet, I felt graceful and calm as a sailboat gliding on the waves.  I may have not tried on pointe shoes, but with my dreamer’s mind, I thought I could spin on my toes.  “Dad, I want to go to Julliard.”  I think I want to be a prima ballerina.

I had many dreams and still do.  The call for Ireland tugs like a tugboat at my heart.  I listen to Irish music and dance and jig around the house.  Brody and Shiloh, my dogs, are an observant audience.  Green runs through my veins.  Shamrocks grow around my doorstep.  I want to run through the emerald hills and lay in the grass and look up at the “lucky” clouds.  My Irish heritage froths in me like a Guinness beer.  Aye!  God-willing I’ll walk the rocky paths and overlook the Atlantic.  On a plane, to Ireland I want to go.

God says He will give us the desires of our hearts.  That is His hope for us, our presents he puts under the Christmas tree.  My dreams are wonderers, sojourners.  I’m an adventurer, deep thinker, with a writer’s mind.  I get affected to my core, my senses polish.  My heart dreams every day and every stellar midnight.  My portfolio is full of bubbles and stars.  As Cinderella said, “A dream is a wish your heart makes.”               

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Little Hat

Little Hat   There is a little cowboy hat that hangs in my blue Malibu.   It once hung in my dad’s Ford F-150 and many trucks to come.   It is worn, faded, but still “alive”.   Just like that little hat, my dad came home from many roof jobs; worn, faded, but “alive” with God’s strength.   He was happy to walk through the door to the O’Banion clan.   He was met with “love bombs” of hugs and kisses.   The little cowboy watched through the windshield at this bond.   It nested in the truck waiting for the next journey.   What will the next day bring?   Will it bring work, travel, church, joy, or sorrow?   When you look at a trivial object, that object is part of your “life ride”.   It’s here for a moment, then moths or rust destroy. Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal.   But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where mo...

Major Attributes a Godly Man Inherits

Last night my husband and I ate at our favorite Mexican restaurant. We chatted and laughed as the colorful decor listened to our conversation. When we were done exploring each other’s day over tortilla chips and queso, we walked to the counter to pay our bill. As the waitress took our payment she asked if we were on a date. I said, “Yes, a married date.” We walked through the doors, full of attentive affection and love.  Our attributes as a couple shined like the yellow chairs amidst the restaurant. Godly attributes of a man should majorly impact his wife and others around him.  Those godly attributes should entail: Love that is found within the gold seams of a bible that is read by a husband under a glistening lamp. Leadership that is drafted into prayer with his family   Guidance that is architected into wise words with his wife and children Protector of souls and warrior of hearts Casting out a safety net for finances, provision, and trials Disciple...

Silver Knight

  Little boys and little girls around the world can be heard calling for, "Daddy, father, dad!" I must of uttered dad a hundred times a day. “Dad, can you help me with a math problem?", “Dad, can you fix this and fix that?", “Dad! There's a spider in my room!" Dads' are the heads of the household. They are spiritual leaders and advice givers. They are comforters and protectors of clans throughout different villages. My dad was the king of our Irish clan. He was a good ole' southern gentleman, so he always slipped a "hun” in his statements. He was a wonderful Christian man, always giving glory to God. He was a sound and stable oak, never bent or shaken. Fear? He did not know fear. The only fear that was fashioned in his heart, was the fear of God. My dad stood his manly ground each day, battling earthly forces.  My dad was always a detail and knowledge encyclopedia. Many times he would give me advice on how to save money (I was a...