It is just past ten o'clock. I am a few hours away from my 27th birthday and I confess to being in a bit of turmoil over this. And I'm so out of the habit of writing that it's hard for me to organize my thoughts and put them down; something I don't think I've ever experienced. How humbling. Have you ever sat and simply thought about what you'd envisioned for yourself? I did today. I was playing my guitar (a much appreciated gift from my parents and cousin last year around this time) and I didn't think I'd be where I am. Where I am now is not bad. It's just different. I am the head of a department (albeit a small one, but one is more than none). I am paid enough for me to knock off my bills each month. I drive a distinct car whom I affectionately call "Pookie" and which I'm told fits my personality to a tea. I have the privilege of living with my cousin and our two "kids"- fluffy cats heralded Mia and Fritz and I have my own room complete with yellow comforter and a ridiculous amount of pillows (which thrills me to no end). I am independent. Here is where I'd thought I would be when I dreamed about the future...if you'd care to amuse yourself by reading this far:
Age 5: I thought I'd be living in a castle on a steady diet of peanut butter and honey sandwiches.
Age 10: I thought I'd have my own horse ranch in a place where it never rained and all I had to do was ride every day. Of course, someone else cleaned up after them.
Age 14: I thought I'd be way away from my parents and living in a place where I could turn my music up as loud as I wanted and eat in my own room.
Age 18: I thought I'd be a size 4, touring Europe, and married to a long-haired, bearded rock star who quite obviously adored me.
Age 24: I thought I'd be saved from the evils of Florida and flourishing as a missionary in East Africa, teaching children the benefits of recreational therapy. I thought I'd be making this huge, massive, gargantuan impact on the medical community of Kenya.
What I am now: Not a size four, living away from my parents, eating peanut butter and honey sandwiches as I choose, dreaming about my rock star husband, away from the evil Florida, teaching senior adults about the benefits of recreational therapy, and making an impact in my own, God-gifted, God-allowed way.
It's strange, isn't it? I will confess that I have the nasty habit of focusing on what Jesus hasn't done for me instead of focusing on what He has done. It's ugly and so wretchedly human that I have to resist the urge to smack myself. I would like to tour Europe. I would like a God-fearing man who will love me. I would like to visit Kenya again. I would not want to be a size four (where's the joy in that?). And last, but certainly not least: I would like to be utterly devoted to Jesus out of love and desire to do so, not out of duty.
In this next year, I pray I allow Him to work more in my life. I pray He shows Himself to me in a way I'll never forget. I pray I'm open to that experience. And I thank Him for the blessings He's given me.
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