Dreams Aren’t Enough As important as dreams are, they aren’t enough. Why? Dreams don’t take you where you want to go. A dream needs wings – to become a tangible vision – a passion that will take you where you REALLY want to be. Bethany Hamilton lives in Hawaii – her passion is surfing – her dream is to become a professional surfer. She spends every available minute in water, even home-schooling so she can have more time to pursue her vision. At 8 years of age she entered her first major competition taking division championships that year. Bethany’s dream had become her passion – a tangible vision.

When Your Vision Is Attacked Bethany’s vision was viciously attacked on Halloween morning, 2003, when she was 13 years old. Bethany was lying on her board -- left arm dangling in cool water. She remembers a flash of gray, pressure, and a couple fast tugs. She also remembers watching jaws of a 15-foot tiger shark cover top of her board and her left arm. The shark was gone as fast as it appeared. So was her arm.

Every morning I open Bible. I can’t help but read at least a verse from books of Proverbs and Ecclesiastes because I need wisdom for each day. Then I would plunge deeply into studying my Bible. Thirty minutes to an hour later, I would close my Holy book, pray and face day.

But one morning was exceptional. I woke up with a heavy heart and a migraine headache. I knew cause of my infirmities. I had believed God for a job for past five years, but a day before, I lost out at another interview. So I felt hopeless and empty. The strength to hang on ran dry and I was weak to core.

Relaxing for a while, I picked up my Bible. I opened it like it was some coffee-table book. My troubled eyes fell on Mark chapter five. I scanned through to verse twenty-five to thirty-five. It was story of woman with issue of blood. Though I did not know reason, but I read account story six times that remarkable morning.

This is a story I’ve heard all my life from my age eight when attending Sunday school classes. I knew her story so well like my last name; I knew it like number of blouses in my small closet. It was a miraculous story of faith more than that of a mustard seed.

I remembered in University campus fellowship, we gave her story a name, “ The garment’s faith”. I personally had preached garment’s faith to believers and unbelievers more than a hundred times but after reading it six times, God wanted me reading it again.

“What do you want to tell me in this?” I questioned God.

“ Read it again, my daughter” still voice responded, ignoring my question.

“ God! Read what again? I’ve read this story all my life and I’ve got her kind of faith.” I yelled out loud. But still voice was adamant and I was left with a choice, to read it again. Then, as I went through it, something dawned on me. Something I’ve never thought of hit me hard.

The woman was strong, rich and healthy. Perhaps people envied her for her success. Perhaps she had taught people a hundred times how to remain healthy and rich. But one day she was ready for her monthly menstrual period just like every other woman. After three to five days, flow never stopped. She became worried, saw a gynaecologist, got some medications and was told not to worry, but it persisted. Her worries led to fear as she tried other doctors, still no changes. She tried whatever people suggested and they were as diverse as they were costly until she spent all her lot. Before her very eyes, everything she had acquired completely disappeared.