What Dreams Are Made Of

by Cindie Thomas

From the age of ten, I used writing as a tool for sharing the pain in my life.  I grew up watching Disney on Sunday nights and believed that “when you wish upon a star, makes no difference who you are. Anything your heart desires will come to you.”

But it didn’t. Oh how I wished that my Mom and Dad would be happy and wouldn’t argue. I wanted my Mom to love me and to want to spend time with me. Instead she told me that she “hated me” and wished I had never been born.

Not at all what “dreams were made of.”  Early on, I learned that my heart’s desires were not coming true. As a ten year-old girl attending Catholic school, I kneeled by my bed at night praying that God Himself would wave a magic wand and the battlefield that I called home would just be gone. I sat on my bed and wrote page after page, pouring my heart to Him believing that He would hear my cries but not ever feeling that I was “good” enough. As a young Catholic girl I was brought up to fear God and never felt that my relationship with God was based on love. It was all about merit.

The summer I turned 13 my parents ended their marriage. My Dad moved out and my Mom’s boyfriend moved in. My room became my refuge. I spent hours putting my thoughts and my feelings down on paper and also on canvas. I wrote short stories inventing the ideal life and I painted for hours on end. Both creative outlets helped to ease the ache in my heart that never seemed to go away.

As a teenager I lived with the pain of my parent’s divorce. My Dad and I estranged because of the ugliness of it all; and then I was abused by my stepfather. It was a terrible time in my life and writing was my outlet. I continued to write as it brought me comfort and helped me to sort out the things I was dealing with. Writing helped me to have a voice.

Fast forward many years, at 35 years old a friend introduces me to her Jesus. He is different than the Jesus I prayed to because I feel loved. I feel that I matter and I am “good” enough in His eyes.

My friend gave me a Bible. One night as I read, my eyes landed on Psalm 139 and verses 13-14—did He write this just for me? God created me…He knit me together. My mother may not have wanted me, but I am not an accident. I am fearfully and wonderfully made.

Jesus created me with the desire to share my stories, to use words to share life and to share His glory. For me, writing brings healing as we write from the depth of our souls and from all that is within.

Forever, I will be grateful for the pain because it is what has made me see His goodness, His grace and have a heart filled with gratitude.


Cindie Thomas, is a wife, mother of three young adults and Gram to five amazing grandchildren. She is a Life Coach, Writer, and Speaker who longs to minister to women who are struggling and want to find contentment in their lives. http://musingsfromthegram.typepad.com/a_circle_of_three/


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