When I was little, I wanted to be a teacher when I grew up. I didn’t plan on this one room schoolhouse with six grades going on.
When I was little, I wanted a big family when I grew up. This business of being raised with just one sister was for the birds. I wanted three. Maybe even four.
Then I wanted to be a missionary. Live in some exotic place, learn new languages, tell everyone I met the gospel. Turns out, you don’t need another language, or exotic, and telling people is harder than I thought. But I start small, with my kids, and go from there.
When I was in high school, I read a book about a hostage negotiator. I changed my mind. That’s what I wanted to be when I grew up. Now, instead, I’m the one taking hostages. “You may leave. As soon as: 1. Your chores are done. 2. Your peas are eaten. 3. Your bed is made. 4. Your clothes are folded and put away.” You get the idea. There may be no survivors.
I was gonna marry well. I like shoes. Lots of shoes. Nice ones. Now, my dress code is flip flops. 60% of the shoes in my closet are flip flops that cost less than $5. No shoe in there was more than $30, save one pair. Those, wait for it… were $50. And those were a major splurge that I debated over for a really. long. time.
My children were going to be perfect. I knew everything. Now, I know how little I know. But speaking the gospel and wading through my imperfections seems to be working a little, and the chasms I leave in my wake are filled by Christ.
But I haven’t grown up yet.