Who Do I Want to Be When I Grow Up?

As children we looked forward to the future: "When I grow up, I want to..." There is so much hope wrapped up in that statement. Whether that dream entails becoming a teacher or an astronaut, whether it's running a circus or running a country, it never seems absurd, because when you are young, everything is possible, and no dream is ludicrous.

The problem is, at some point, you have to admit that you've already grown up, and the future is now--not twenty years from now. For some, they have worked toward their dreams all their young lives and are now living their dreams of being artists, teachers, political activists, adventurers, wifes and mothers. For others, like me, those dreams, which were never concrete enough to be pursued in the first place, are still just what they are, dreams for another day. The truth is I did not know what I wanted, and I kept hoping that someday it would dawn on me like a lightbulb.

I believe many people feel that way, and when the lightbulb has not lit up by the time they are forty, they start having midlife crises. They go and buy expensive sports cars and take deep-sea diving lessons because they know their time for chasing a dream is now ticking away, and in that hourglass called "life" there is more sand on the bottom than on top. I don't think I ever had a proper "midlife crisis", but I never stopped asking, "who do I want to be in the future?"

And then, suddenly and without realizing, I stopped asking that question. It's as if I woke up from a dream and I started living in the present rather than in an imaginary future. I stopped asking "what do I want" because it is no longer a relevant question--it never was in the first place. We all have that false notion planted in us by parents and teachers. The proper question should be, "What will God do in me today?"

When I finally gave up my own agendas, I truly began to live. When I stopped aiming for a momentus future, my life began to take on meaning. It all happened so gradually that I did not even notice. When I stopped dreaming about being a published author, I got handed the job of overseeing my church's women's newsletter. I took over the planning, writing, and editing of a circular that was read by 150 -300 women and even some of the husbands. Looking back, I realize how I had always wanted to do just that: as a child, I had written many "mock" newspapers and magazines and "sold" them to my parents. In a strangely circuitous way, God has seen through the muddles in my heart and given me what He knows I love best--after I completely surrendered my hopes and dreams to Him.

What will happen next, now that we are heading off to Hong Kong? Somehow I have this feeling there are other assignments He's about to give me, but I can only get these "dream" jobs when I turn my attention to serving Him, rather than my own desires. It's a spiritual paradox that one can only grow up to understand. I think I've grown up somewhat since my younger days.