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I stood on a stage bathed in bright lights, and the crowd cheered wildly. I humbly bowed my head and then blew kisses while receiving the adulation that was due such a performer as I.

Should I sing an encore? Should I say a word of thanks to my 40,000 fans who had come from all over the country to see me? Should I simply leave the stage to fight off the adoring admirers?

Or should I just … wake up?

As a kid, I dreamed dreams like these. I was on stage; I was perfect; I was the object of everyone’s attention. I was what everyone wanted to be.

First I was a performer, singing a passionate song of love. Then I was a rescue worker saving the trapped and dying.

Then I was a writer, deeply contemplating life and unselfishly sharing my revelations so that the world would be a better place.

I loved to dream of helping, of caring, of being noticed, of doing something noble.

I’m not sure when I quit dreaming of being someone important, someone everyone looked up to, but I did -- just like you have.

I suppose it’s part of growing up … letting dreams die.

After all, not everyone can win Grammy Awards for a musical talent that stirs something deep within us. Not everyone can win the Pulitzer Prize for crafting the perfect words to relay a compelling story.

Not everyone can win the Nobel Peace Prize for persuasively impacting his or her world for the good.

It’s true …

I may never be a doctor who saves the life of a young mother with breast cancer.

I may never be an Olympic athlete who wins the gold for my country.

I may never be a lawyer who defends the innocent and convicts the wicked.

I may never be a philosopher who challenges the status quo.

I may never be a TV personality who inspires hope and renewed aspirations.

I may never be a composer who celebrates the heart of life.

I may never be a missionary who brings hope to the desperate.

I may never be an artist who captures beauty on canvas.

It’s true; I may never lead a nation, teach the next Edison or write a best seller.

But, there are some things I am told I can be … and they are the things that make dreams come true.

I may be the light of the world that leads one to the Savior.

I may be the salt that seasons a life that has lost all meaning.

I may be the messenger of the King to whom one day every knee shall bow.

I may be the imperfect vessel that carries the perfect hope.

It’s true, I may be the hands that help to heal a broken heart, the feet that walk the extra mile with a searching soul, the eyes to look beyond the sin and see the worthy, and the ears to hear the story and yet, not condemn.

Crowds may not gather to show their appreciation for my life. No one may notice the small acts of one such as I. My name may never be a household word.

But when I have been all who God has asked me to be, I have been a success. I have done my job, and I have heard the applause of One.

So, do our dreams really die?

(Larry and Linda Kloster sponsor this column.)

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