Guest Blogger: Love Notes from the Fickle Monster, Part 18
She looked up at me with these big blue eyes and said, "I want you to be my mom."
I replied, "I am not emotionally prepared to mother a child."
Eyebrows furrowing, she said, "What? You don't have any kids?"
"No."
Eyebrows raised in surprise, "Wow. Do you have a husband?"
"No."
Eyebrows fixed, perplexed, "Fiance?"
"How do you know what that is?"
"Boyfriend?"
"Not really."
Eyebrows narrowed, focused, "How old are you?"
"25."
Eyebrows....just eyebrows, "You should have kids by now."
Hold up kid, you're cutting deep...and you are seven.
I thought about crying out, "Yes, I am a twenty five year old who is not endeavoring to start a family, is just beginning graduate school, is still living at home, and is (for only two more days) working a truly special summer job. Yes, I am happy. Eat your popsicle; you're making me feel like crap!" She is the same girl who told me her ideal boyfriend had blue hair, a bowl cut, and a pet wolf.
We all have our dreams, our expectations, our wishes, our ideas.
When I was seven, my teacher asked what I wanted to be when I grew up...a chef, of course. A chef? I supposed the answer was appropriate considering my passion for food...eating food. Throughout life, I defined and redefined my answer to the question. We love asking eachother about such things. However, to me, that question reduces, even negates the potential of now, the very moment. We get busy encouraging (pressuring) one another toward something else, something different, and we easily forget we are presently alive which is a pretty ok thing to be.
Seeking contentment in our projected futures is often easier than finding it today, now, this very moment.
Just a few days ago, someone asked me where I thought I would be in one year. My response was stupid, quick, thoughtless: "Right here" which was followed by "picking strawberries in Puerto Rico (the location could have been a different tropical place, I can't remember)," and I finished big with "on a cross country bike tour." My answer was hasty and uninspired because, honestly, I do not know. I am planning on starting a graduate program, maintaining friendships, reading more books, meeting new people, losing more weight, and continuing my work at Green Run. I can plan, but I cannot know.
I cannot begin to dream up an idea of what life will look like 365 days from now. I can speak for today and the 9,201 days which are held together, supernaturally, through the spiritual bonds of life, experience, and influence. When I consider the possibilities of next year, I believe I should approach any thought with a holy reverence and humble gratitude for the very spot I am standing in now.
Our plans, our dreams, our ideas are sometimes impressive, usually required, and often poor attempts at containing the expansive nature of the unknown future that, at best, is unreliable and shapeless and overwhelming and indefinite.
This is what I know to be true: God is soverign. Based on the surprises, impulses, experiences, and changes over this past year, I know my next year of life is purposefully ordained for me to explore, to learn, and to share. I am still considering reduction and holiness and purpose. And perhaps my realized future will not align with others expectations, and it may not align with my own, but I'm not so scared of that anymore.
There is plenty of room for setting goals and dreaming and wishing, but the weight of life is resounding in the current of a living moment.
I replied, "I am not emotionally prepared to mother a child."
Eyebrows furrowing, she said, "What? You don't have any kids?"
"No."
Eyebrows raised in surprise, "Wow. Do you have a husband?"
"No."
Eyebrows fixed, perplexed, "Fiance?"
"How do you know what that is?"
"Boyfriend?"
"Not really."
Eyebrows narrowed, focused, "How old are you?"
"25."
Eyebrows....just eyebrows, "You should have kids by now."
Hold up kid, you're cutting deep...and you are seven.
I thought about crying out, "Yes, I am a twenty five year old who is not endeavoring to start a family, is just beginning graduate school, is still living at home, and is (for only two more days) working a truly special summer job. Yes, I am happy. Eat your popsicle; you're making me feel like crap!" She is the same girl who told me her ideal boyfriend had blue hair, a bowl cut, and a pet wolf.
We all have our dreams, our expectations, our wishes, our ideas.
When I was seven, my teacher asked what I wanted to be when I grew up...a chef, of course. A chef? I supposed the answer was appropriate considering my passion for food...eating food. Throughout life, I defined and redefined my answer to the question. We love asking eachother about such things. However, to me, that question reduces, even negates the potential of now, the very moment. We get busy encouraging (pressuring) one another toward something else, something different, and we easily forget we are presently alive which is a pretty ok thing to be.
Seeking contentment in our projected futures is often easier than finding it today, now, this very moment.
Just a few days ago, someone asked me where I thought I would be in one year. My response was stupid, quick, thoughtless: "Right here" which was followed by "picking strawberries in Puerto Rico (the location could have been a different tropical place, I can't remember)," and I finished big with "on a cross country bike tour." My answer was hasty and uninspired because, honestly, I do not know. I am planning on starting a graduate program, maintaining friendships, reading more books, meeting new people, losing more weight, and continuing my work at Green Run. I can plan, but I cannot know.
I cannot begin to dream up an idea of what life will look like 365 days from now. I can speak for today and the 9,201 days which are held together, supernaturally, through the spiritual bonds of life, experience, and influence. When I consider the possibilities of next year, I believe I should approach any thought with a holy reverence and humble gratitude for the very spot I am standing in now.
Our plans, our dreams, our ideas are sometimes impressive, usually required, and often poor attempts at containing the expansive nature of the unknown future that, at best, is unreliable and shapeless and overwhelming and indefinite.
This is what I know to be true: God is soverign. Based on the surprises, impulses, experiences, and changes over this past year, I know my next year of life is purposefully ordained for me to explore, to learn, and to share. I am still considering reduction and holiness and purpose. And perhaps my realized future will not align with others expectations, and it may not align with my own, but I'm not so scared of that anymore.
There is plenty of room for setting goals and dreaming and wishing, but the weight of life is resounding in the current of a living moment.
Listen.
Live.
Now.
I dare us.
Live.
Now.
I dare us.
**********************************************************
This week, she reread The Giver, and loved this line,
"The worst part of holding memories is not the pain. It's the loneliness of it.
Memories need to be shared" (Lowry 154).
Cora Ruth Flottman is the best friend, college room8 and a complete inspiration to Sheila.
She is an actress, teacher, Christian, lover of the written word, and men who can change the tires on a car.She blogs here every Friday (when inspired).
This week, she reread The Giver, and loved this line,
"The worst part of holding memories is not the pain. It's the loneliness of it.
Memories need to be shared" (Lowry 154).
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