I always wanted to be a grown-up. Even as a little, little kid. Maybe it was because I was the oldest child in the family and considered myself a second Mama to my siblings (much to their great annoyance, I assure you.) Maybe it was because I wanted to put on high heels, wear makeup and spray that stuff on my neck that made my mother smell so good. Maybe it was because I had stuff I wanted to do, and I was tired of asking my parents for their approval or their blessing or their money to carry out my grand plans. Maybe it was because I was bored and wanted to get to the juicy parts of life, the ones I read about in the pages of novels or imagined – more often than not- when time seemed to pass so excruciatingly slowly from my little corner bedroom overlooking the sand dunes on Seaview Loop. Anyway, my dream job was to be a grown-up. And this meant all sorts of things: to be married, to be a mama, to be a part of a community, to be creative, to make grocery lists, to cook supper, to write checks, to drive a car, to make decisions. So on paper, I guess you could say I’m living my dream job.
I can’t say that it pays the way I thought it would nor can I say that I go from one juicy life chapter to the next, but I can say I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world: my husband’s embrace at the end of a long day, the pitter patter of my little boy’s feet on the hardwood floor before the sun has risen, my daughter’s knowing smile over an ongoing joke we no longer even have to exchange words for, my extended family, my church, my neighborhood, my students, and the stories and characters that won’t take a rest in the far corners of my mushy mind, behind the grocery list or the orthodontist appointment.
Once I heard a friend’s father say, “If you hung everyone’s problems on a tree, I bet you’d pick yours every time over everyone else’s.” And I think the same could be said of life. Sure, there are things that could be improved upon. Grown-up living is not for sissies. But, I’ll tell you I’d take mine every time over any other life that is presented e. It’s the one My Father has fashioned just for me. And I’m thankful, thankful, thankful beyond words that the little girl inside the woman finally got her wish.
P.S. Rachel Hauck’s terrific, best-selling novel about a woman and her dream job, The Wedding Dress, sparked this discussion. I do hope you’ll check it out if you haven’t yet!
For more info. on Beth Webb Hart and her novels click here
