Some wounds take longer to heal than others. Some wounds are far deeper and more debilitating than scrapes to our knees. Some require massive surgery. Some wounds require a dream transplant. That’s exactly what happened to me. My whole life crashed in on me and then just kept crashing. With each new wave, I would regain my footing, lift my head above the water, take a deep breath, and then the next wave would pummel me over. The storm that changed my adult life was unexpected and swift, and then was followed by a continual crashing of waves that made me feel as if I may never regain solid ground again. Then, something happened, it wasn’t all at once, but slowly the sun began to shine again. The waves receded. I did regain my balance. The ground beneath my feet dried out, and I started to rebuild my life. The problem was that as I rebuilt, I still dreamed of the life I was “supposed” to have. The life that I dreamed up as a little girl, and as I regained my footing and looked around at the beginning of my fresh, newly blossoming beautiful life, it didn’t look at all like my old one. I didn’t want to dream a new dream, I didn’t want a new life. I didn’t want to rebuild. I wrestled in this transition time for a long time. Truthfully, I am still wrestling with it. I still wake up in the dark hours of the early morning and wonder, “How did I arrive here?”  Yet, I am learning a valuable lesson. Some deep wounds require us to accept a dream transplant. This is when we grieve the old dreams that no longer fit us, and allow ourselves to begin to dream again. It’s the magical realization that our story is so far from over. Its the moment that hope is revived and small embers in our soul begin to flare up again. Its the very moment when old gets traded for brand new. A brand new dream is wrapped in wild emotions: hope is there, but so is grief. Deep, deep grief because the new dream means loss of the old one. This is where we get to pick up our heads, stand up a little taller, and begin to walk in the direction of our new dreams. And when we have a difficult moment when the grief resurfaces, we can take a moment to allow ourselves to grieve how it was “supposed” to look. As we grieve, we can also reflect how far we’ve come since the waves stopped crashing, and then we can be brave enough to look up so that the sunshine can kiss our cheeks. The sun has risen again and our new dreams are carrying us forward, not back. Thank goodness for that!