The path will be hard, obscured by clouds and fog so thick you see nothing all around you. But when you least expect it, the swirling clouds part and the shimmering city shines through. It was there all along. Vibrant. Real. And even when you cannot see it, especially when you cannot see it, trust, remember, and know it is there.
This time, the reminder comes as I am flying cross-country, looking down on the blanket of clouds that reach the horizon. Suddenly, an opening, and the city shines below, twinkling with white snow.
The first time I saw it was the day I fell in love with the man who is my husband. We drove up the switchback road to Windy Hill, a clear ridge-top vista overlooking the San Francisco Bay on one side and the ocean, in the distance, on the other. Fog rushed around us. He lent me a warm down jacket from China to keep me warm. I held his hand as we started down a new path for both of us, in a place we had never been before. Clouds moving fast, cold, and they suddenly opened to show the city below. Closing again as if it was never there. Then opening again. Amazing. Breathtaking.
I chose a difficult path for work (maybe for love too). There are so many times when it seems as if the city is a mirage that cannot exist. There are so many times when my dream feels like a mirage. I dream of rebuilding whole neighborhoods in war zones, helping families transform broken homes, broken lives into neighborhoods the world will keep safe.
Then the clouds open for a moment, with a glimpse of the reality I know: a family plans for their new home, brave and determined to rebuild, not be destroyed. People around the world support them, a building project, and then an opening ceremony. They move in … I hold my breath, along with thousands who made this possible and celebrate with them. Dreams made real.
PREVIOUS PAGE
