As I sit down to write this week’s encouragement, I’ve got my doors open, music on, and I am enjoying the cooler day—knowing it won’t last and summer is just around the corner. Soon I’ll say “so long” to doors being open for a few months and will have to dream of cooler days to come.

With the doors open, the wind is blowing straight through my house and aside from shutting everything up, there’s no stopping it—and I love it. There’s something about it that feels alive… like a quiet reminder that not everything is meant to be contained.

As a kid, growing up in So Cal, we had five seasons: Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall… and Santa Anas. Yes, Fall has always been my favorite season, but the time when the Santa Anas would blow through came in as a close second. I can remember playing out in the yard and letting myself get completely windblown, enjoying the warmth and freedom of the wind going wherever it needed to go.

Some of my greatest make-believe days happened during those windy afternoons. The wind would instantly carry me onto a ship, or place me atop a mountain, sometimes even into a secret hiding place, waiting out some imaginary storm. My imagination knew no bounds—and the wind was its highway.

Looking back now, I can’t help but think how much that wind reminds me of the way God moves. Unseen, yet undeniable. Unpredictable, yet purposeful. I didn’t have the words for it then, but I can see now—He was always there, even in the simple joy of a child being carried away in wonder.

In my adulthood, being metaphorically windblown is not as romantic and fun as it once was. Life can get topsy-turvy and out of order with the little breezes along the way—and completely disheveled with the heavier gusts.

But maybe that’s where faith steps in.

Because what I’ve come to learn is that not every wind is meant to knock me down—some are meant to move me. Some are meant to refine me. And some… are the gentle whispers of God redirecting my steps when I’ve grown too comfortable standing still.

It’s what I do in the aftermath that matters. The wind can also blow things back into order or create a new path that’s better than before. And maybe it’s not just the wind at all—maybe it’s His hand in it, reshaping what I thought was already set.

I look around at trees and plants that have been shaped by the wind for so long in a certain direction, and it’s obvious they’ve learned to thrive that way—out of sheer necessity.

I guess I can either be the rooted tree, grounded in faith and learning to grow despite the wind… or be like dandelion fluff, carried wherever He allows me to land, trusting that even there, I’m not outside His care.

Either way still allows for thriving. I suppose it’s all perspective—but also, perhaps, surrender.

My Dad used to get really frustrated with me when I’d pick a dandelion and blow on it just to see the fluffs fly away. He’d scold me because I was spreading weeds all over his lawn, and I’d tell him I was making a wish—for isn’t that what every child does with a dandelion?

Let your wishes be blown away on the wind… to grow where they land.

I don’t whisper my wishes to many dandelions these days. I don’t send my dreams out into the wind hoping that this time they’ll come true.

But maybe I’ve learned something better than wishing.

Maybe it’s trust.  Trust that the same God who directs the wind also sees me. That He holds every dream I’ve tucked away, every hope I’ve been too afraid to speak out loud. And that when He breathes into my life, it’s not random—it’s intentional, even when I don’t understand it.

There’s a verse that says the wind “blows wherever it pleases… you hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going.”

Maybe faith is learning to live like that—
not needing to see every step ahead,
but trusting the One who does.

If I’m honest, I don’t much like the wind anymore.  But what if the very thing I’m resisting is the very thing God is using to grow me?  What if the disruption is actually direction?

And what if learning to follow Him means loosening my grip…and letting Him carry me into something better than I could have imagined on my own?

Some might say wishes and dreams are for the young, but I disagree. Because once we stop dreaming, the wind in our hearts grows still.

And maybe that wind—the one that stirs something deep within us—isn’t just longing…maybe it’s Him.

-Ann-Marie Reynolds