How did I make it to 40 and still feel a little like I am a mystery unto myself?  Here I am still trying to figure out who I am, what drives me and what I love – not whom I love – as I drift into the other side of years.  As a child, I dreamed about what I wanted to be when I grew up, then about getting married and raising a family, but I did not consider what I would do once my part in actively parenting my children was over.  I’ve got some time yet before that transition is complete, but I can see it looming and the years are short.  

I know that most of us work to live.  If we are fortunate we find employment or a career that is enjoyable and challenging, and which allows us to pursue other interests and activities in the evenings and on weekends.  To find an occupation where one can live to work is truly a rare gift, and not many find it.  I understand this, and I accept this.  I may very well spend my next 25 years in a good, solid profession, which challenges me but doesn’t excite me.  I am practical and pragmatic, and I will always make the reliable choice.

But inside I am a dreamer.  I imagine other paths, usually accompanied by soundtracks with piano and orchestra and the wind blowing through my hair (which apparently is less bothersome when daydreaming than in reality) .  I imagine writing from a desk that overlooks the surf and the sea, or a sea of tall grass.  I imagine photographing light and love, and wild, carefree spirits.  To sit with easel at Churchill’s pond and paint it’s depths.  I imagine long walks wearing tall boots and long coat, and my Darling beside me.   Sometimes I feel, as C.S. Lewis so eloquently put it,

“If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world.”

And perhaps that is what these dreams are for.  Perhaps they were planted there, deep inside, hidden beneath common sense and pragmatism, by God himself.  A little seed He plans to nurture and cultivate for such an occasion when time and decay are no longer enemies.  Seeds need darkness and dirt to grow, and life gets dark and muddy.  But when the light and water comes, oh what a glorious day for that tiny seed!  Oh what wonder when that seed becomes what it was meant to be!