I was married at the ripe age of 22. Fresh out of college with a degree in one hand, a part-time job at the church I loved in the other. I was following a dream that I thought I was “supposed” to have: Go to college, go to a small group, meet the man of your dreams in your small group, date for a short amount of time, get engaged, be engaged for an even shorter amount of time, say “I do,” and have babies. Lots of babies. At least 4, and definitely more than 1.

That’s the dream. That’s the dream I thought I was supposed to dream.

For context: I have incredible friends who had this dream, who are living the dream, and who are happy because of the dream. They are living beautiful, fulfilling lives. I admire them, I learn from them, I respect them.

But what happens when, two weeks into your marriage, that dream quickly begins to fade? When reality sets in that this may not work out. I am not talking about the growing pains that come from learning to live with someone, deciding who takes out the trash, or how to handle conflict. I’m talking about the knowing in your gut. The quiet inner voice that you are afraid to heed because you know it's true.

What happens when your dreams, expectations, and plans start to crumble?

Some would call this moment in my life a failure. More specifically a failed marriage. As an Enneagram 1 this was a tough one to wrestle through. It was during this season that the dream of REFIT® was beginning to bud. One dream was wasting away, while another started to grow.  I remember during our very first REFIT Instructor Trainings, 10 years ago, feeling broken, bruised, and insecure. I wanted our new instructors to feel valued and valuable. Personally, I was scraping the bottom of the barrel. “How am I qualified to tell people about belonging, empowerment, and transformation when my life is falling apart?”  Both my internal dialogue and culture would dictate that I was disqualified. Not allowed. Broken. Unusable.

Thankfully, a small circle of trust - my parents, Angela, Emily, and a few close friends rallied around me when I didn’t have the strength to believe in myself. Therapy brought me closer to truth, freedom, and healing. Each tiny insecure shaky step escorted me down a path that taught me that I was not marked by failure or imperfection.

Have you ever been there? Defeated?  Can you recall a time in your life when you didn’t meet your expectations or the expectations of others? What did your shaky steps look like? Where are you stronger as a result of a broken dream?

Remembrance is a powerful tool. We so quickly forget how strong we are, where we’ve come from, and what we have been through. Take a moment to remember.

The hard lesson learned was:
The death of a dream is often an opportunity for bravery, beauty, and belonging. 

It’s in the tight, uncomfortable, arduous seasons where destiny is revealed. Character is being shaped by difficulty. Genius is being exposed by pressure. It’s there where we start to find ourselves again.

The truth that held me in that season was that goodness was on either side of this broken dream. Goodness was guaranteed to chase me down.

My choice to let this dream go opened me up to the goodness on the other side of it. My imperfect ending led me straight into a new beginning.
A fresh start.

That is a gift. A gift that I don’t want to miss. And as I watched a dream fade into the sunset, I also soon watched my heart timidly learn to dare to dream again.

10 years later, I am humbled that my weak, broken, shaky steps during that painstaking season led to a million other “steps.” Maybe even a bold or shaky step from you as you’ve joined our imperfect journey to dream of fitness spaces where people can belong – not in spite of, but because of, their imperfection..

May you have the courage to take a shaky step today, and not allow an imperfect ending to dictate your future. May those same shakey steps set you on the path of dreaming again.

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