I don’t intend to shoot for the stars anymore.
Once upon a time I was going to be a rockstar-like author, a groundbreaking thinker, a coveted speaker, a somebody…you know?
But now, when I see life stretching ahead of me, it’s slow, quiet and there are few, if any, flashing lights.
Listening to my gorgeous girlfriends talk about their budding careers or exciting research or fantastical social lives, I do feel pangs of jealously. But those pangs are almost instantly replaced by relief. Relief that I no longer feel like the rest of the world is leaving me behind, but rather that I’m lucky enough to have found my place and can stop frantically searching.
I sit in my little house, preparing to be a missionary, cleaning, working as a babysitter part time and spending most of my social life with my immediate family and at church. And I am content.
My ambitions are small. They probably won’t get me any awards.
I want to have a big family, with lots of dogs and with my extended family always around me. I want to cook for thousands of people in my lifetime and have time to sweep my floors two or three times a day. I want my nieces and nephews to confide in me and love spending time at my house. I want to go for many long walks, with puppies and old dogs and maybe one day a pet pig (here’s to hoping!) I want to know the people in my community so well they don’t have to ask for help, we’ll just know their needs. And they’ll know ours.
When my friends are weary I want them to come flop on my couch and drink wine, complain and let it all out. When my friends are scared, worried and coming undone I want them to call me, to ask me to pray for them and to ask me their questions about God. I want to work as a counselor, anywhere really, and help teenagers work out the complexities of growing up. And I want a house full of people. And I want lots of alone time with Nick. Through out all of this, I want to write.
Perhaps I lack ambition. Perhaps I should want more.
But rather than always asking for “more” my new prayer will be to ask for “enough.”