Skip to main content

 ”It is a good thing that God doesn’t show us glimpses of our future, otherwise we might not want to move towards them.


  At least this is the case with me- I know that if I had seen visions of my future self when I was a child, I would have been both incredulous and incredibly unhappy. I thought this as I walked across camp this morning, looking down at my skinny jeans and my moccasins. The only thing I that I am wearing at the moment that I would have approved of when I was seven is my moccasins and my red nail polish. I would’ve been horrified to know that I would someday wear straight leg pants like my mother does, because as a child I vowed never to wear anything that wasn’t cargo pants or flares, regardless of what may be in fashion.


  And if, as a seven-year-old girl, I could’ve seen any other piece of my life right now as well, I think I would have been equally unhappy about that.


  I didn’t want a car like this, or a job that doesn’t pay lots and lots of money and require me to wear grown-up-like skirts and heels everyday. I would have been distraught at the thought of living with my parents at the age of twenty, because when I was a child I was certain I’d own a two-story house with a parrot in every room by this age. But I don’t, and that would have scared and confused me when I was seven.


  If God had shown me a picture of my boyfriend and said, “Look, this is the man you’ll love,” I wouldn’t have understood. He doesn’t look like Jonathan Taylor Thomas or that boy from my Sunday school class, and that was my standard of handsome when I was seven.


  But when I was a child my goal was perfection, not righteousness.


  I wanted a shiny convertible, a two story house, and a parrot that could sing the ABC’s. Instead I have a car with a belt that squeals sometimes, but I’ve paid for it all myself. I wanted to always look as pretty as my Mama does when she goes out to business events; to own lots of high heels and fancy skirt suits; to marry a guy as daring as one of the adolescent idiots from a Judy Blume book I managed to get second-hand. Instead, I now spend nine months of the year dressing as a teacher and three month of the year working in ministry and dressing like fashion doesn’t exist, and I have a boyfriend who is an incredible man of God and treats me with more adoration and respect than any boy ever has.


  What I have is so very, very much greater than any plans or expectations I have ever had for myself, but it isn’t the American dream. It isn’t even what I thought MY dream was when I was younger. But it has become my dream, as I grew up and realized that my dream for my life needs to look a lot more like following God and letting Him shape me and use me, and a lot less like living for my self.


It’s about righteousness and obedience, not the worldly standard of perfection or success.”   -July 24th, 2011 8:30am (5 weeks ago)


"This ain’t my American dream
I wanna live and die for bigger things
I’m tired of fighting for just me
This ain’t my American dream.”  -“American Dream” by Switchfoot

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Pause Before You Post: Representing yourself responsibly and honestly online

  When I was about eleven years old I went to summer camp for the first time. Before my sister and I left, my mother talked to us about something. She explained that we needed to mindful of our behavior at camp, not only because it is important to be kind and respectful, but also because we would be a representation of both our family and Christ to the people around us. That stuck with me.   Now, with so many of us daily browsing and posting to social media sites such as Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, Instagram, and blogs such as this, our representation is no longer limited to the people we are around in person- it is far-reaching, even global at times. It is certainly a far more widespread representation of yourself to post on the internet than it is to say something in person; on the internet, the dozens or hundreds of people you are connected with may see it. That is an enormous audience.   I feel very strongly that we need to be mindful of that audience, of that re...
Post a Comment
Read more

Girl, Your House is a Mess

  Recently someone on Facebook posted something that bothered me. I didn't fly into a rage and comment viciously- I've been working on not commenting right away- or at all- when something bugs me, because often firing off a comment in the moment isn't most gracious ( more on this here ). But I've been thinking about it, so here we go.   This post was about moms with messy houses, and how there is no excuse for one. People commented largely supporting this- asserting that messes are the result of laziness on the women's part, and that unless you are disabled in some way, you have no excuse. "Especially stay at home mom's," one woman, a stay-at-home mom herself, said, "I want to ask them what they do all day." Another comment agreed that the more time you have at home, the more time you have to clean, and therefore less possible reason why it should be messy. In general, it seemed agreed upon that a few books on your floor for a short amount...
1 comment
Read more

Parenting Adventures: Already, I'm Wrong

  I lay in bed five days ago, staring up at the dark shapes that the shadows made on the ceiling. It was the fourth night since Judah had been born, and I was realizing something: Already, I am wrong.   Before our first child was born- this tiny blessing that we have had for just over a week now- I was certain of many things. I made plans. I confidently stated that our child would never co-sleep with my husband and I, because it was just too scary- and besides, we had a perfectly good cradle for him to sleep in instead. And yet now I found myself cuddled up beside the most precious human being I had ever seen, as he slept deeply (and safely) between Arthur and I in our bed.  Before he was born, I said I’d never give Judah formula. And while I am sticking with breastfeeding, I cannot deny the fact that at 4am three days into motherhood I cried and wanted to give up.     I have realized in these short nine days of Judah’s life that many of the things I was certa...
Post a Comment
Read more