I lost the venture but won the risk in searching for the possible. I always wanted to open up a coffee shop. I still have scribble notes from junior high when I daydreamed of combining my one-day criminology degree with my passion for cherished conversation. At twelve I promised myself when I became an adult I would open a coffeehouse called the Prison Break Café. Partitioned comfy “cells” would represent havens where one could escape from the confines of any given day. Manager specials like the “Escape from Alcatraz” would be a regular weekend kickoff drink and Saturday’s drink would be “Espresso Yourself.” Patrons would have the opportunity to have their very own “mug shot” made – a picture of them on a coffee mug….a special treat for the regulars to use on their daily café escapes. That was about as far as my notes recorded the thoughts of this young girl’s dream.

I received the degree and recently a serendipitous prospect presented itself for me to own a coffee shop I love dearly. This shop and this one alone was the one when I walked through the door for the VERY FIRST TIME almost a year ago I said aloud, “I will own this one day.” Indeed, this was the shop which awoke the girl of endless possibilities and the woman who recognized years of experiences led her to this very doorstep.

Dreaming never seemed like a risk as a child. Rather, dreaming was a pastime as acceptable as lemonade stands and tree climbing. As an adult dreaming is a risk much like we think twice now about bungee jumping after we have children who are dependent upon us. Still, I didn’t hesitate to rummage through attic papers to find the faded doodles of design and intention validating the conception of this dream. I allowed my fingertips to trace the visions of a youth with bold freckles and even bolder plans. This was a plan born whilst I was still wondering who I would be when I grew up. This was an idea I played like an Academy Award winning film long before marriage and having children crossed my mind - this dream I owned with no co-signer, and now I was opening it up again like an old love letter found unexpectedly while cleaning.

Did I let down the twelve-year-old girl in me when I said no to the coffee shop? Yes and no. The plans of a child didn’t fit within the responsibilities I had found myself in twenty five years later. I wanted desperately something that was not received with the same vigor as my husband. His reasons were logical, created in the present. My reasons were emotional, aged and tended to by seasons and stages. He saw black and white. I saw me and the last twenty five years in full color. He was right, but so was I. I have to be honest…the girl in me cried, but the woman in me wiped her tears. At times only my reflection told of my age as I nursed my hurt.

I lost the venture but won the risk in searching for the possible. I still enjoy helping with the coffee shop even though my dream has been altered. Would I have dreamed differently had I known the answer? A subjective answer, my answer, is life is simply complicated. I am still the kid who actively pursues her passions and isn’t afraid to risk. God has consistently shown me that my path may alter, my dreams may take the form of reality in a slightly different mold, but where I am going remains constant. But I must keep going. My experiences today will be a stage I reflect upon and draw strength from in another season.

Maybe the dream is to risk.

Maybe we nudge ourselves in persistent progress of moving from comfortable imperfection to risk-taking believers of our purpose and new horizons. In this effort we carry each of our self’s along in this journey…the child, the youth, the adult….we are both old and young with each dawn. We are achieving and dreaming, adapting and creating, compromising and risking.

I have my scribble pad out…time to sketch out the possible.