Mary had dreams, too.

I never thought of that before…Mary had dreams, that probably looked very differently than mine…but dreams, nonetheless, when the Angel of the Lord appeared and asked her to participate in the impossible. I wonder if these dreams popped in her head from time to time, as she watched Joseph’s face turn to frown in doubt and betrayal, and as she watched the other girls her age entering into marriages with parents, proud and upstanding. Mary had to have had dreams, too. 

And what about Joseph? His first son would not be his own. His wife’s first child would not be his own. He surely received some of the same glares of questions and doubts that plagued Mary’s days, as well. Joseph must have had dreams, too.

I have dreams. I had many, and I’ve watched many come to pass. I’ve watched my dreams change. Relationships have come and gone, forming those dreams. Circumstances, too. But, most of all, the boys. There are times I am laughing with Floyd in all his antics, full of joy and cheer, and love and light-and it will hit. I get a picture, and a pang, of where I thought my life was heading not just six months ago. 

And I am reminded that Mary had dreams, too. She had dreams of what her life would look like, and where it was heading. And then her calling interrupted her. 

And I am reminded of this: Life starts with a detour.