There's a bank commercial I saw recently that describes how I feel about my dreams. I'm probably wrong but my recollection of the commercial goes something like this: The man meets woman and is inspired. Man marries woman. Man buys house and has own writing desk, ready to write his great American novel. Shortly after, wife is pregnant and the room continues through the different steps of life, never any writing actually being accomplished, as the room is then used for a nursery, kid room, etc. etc. At the end, he is probably in his mid-forties to early fifties and has sat down, finally, to write his story. This is me. This is the life I have currently portrayed for myself; this current post is how I feel about it.
My dreams may never be, but there's more to life than me. Yes, that is my original quote I put on Facebook the other day and had mixed reactions. The ones who 'got' it, really 'got' it, but most did not. If I never write, my dreams are not necessarily unfulfilled. But that is okay because in the great space between beginning dream and accomplishment lies life, and right now, my life is full of three little boys who continue to require my undivided and never ending attention. These are the things that really matter and the true dreams are living and surviving while we 'think' our dreams are not being fulfilled.
I am told all the time by those beyond my experience that I need to just enjoy the moments and live in the day, as time flies by so quickly and all of a sudden, you are left alone with no more children to fill the house. I understand this and I try daily to remember this. But in life's greatest moments of love, there are also life's greatest frustrations, challenges, and stressors. The key is figuring out a way to open your eyes to a balance: an appreciation of the blessings and an understanding and patience for the trials.
I have been attempting to study Ecclesiastes lately, which gives a dreary but real perspective of what really matters. "Everything that will be done has been done before." I told my husband my writing would be noticed but not until I die. If so, so be it. Because I firmly believe anything that happens on this earth will not be going with me, nor will anyone truly benefit of it after I am gone. But the moments of love, family, children and the memories created within living life are the things that really matter. Our souls go on and we decide their fate. Once my soul is in heaven, I can only hope I lived a life noticeable enough to those I love to also help their decisions guide them heavenward.
I have been pursuing my book lately. There are so many rules and stipulations to publication and contests I think I have concluded that I better just decide to write for myself and those I love, because no one else cares unless you know the right people. By right people, I mean people who believe you're good enough for them to pocket off your work. Because of this conclusion, I will continue to attempt to live in the moments of my life, the precious moments where my one year old (22 months, not yet 2 but still just 1!) wants to snuggle in my lap for the fifteenth time today even though he has spilled his cheerios, wiped his nose on my sleeve, demanded a pacifier, and climbed out of bed during nap time eighteen different times. Because of this conclusion, I will hold my six month old during a small quiet time because he is too upset to go to sleep and much prefers sitting in my lap and playing with a toy, licking my finger with a little bit of toaster strudel frosting, looking up at me and cooing with his big grin and sweet laughing eyes. Because of this conclusion, I will laugh at my three year old when he does something he thinks is hilarious but is really pretty lame. I will let him drive his metal car across the vent because he is using his imagination, even though my nerves are so frayed I can barely stand one more noise while trying to clean the kitchen and listen to my show in the background. Because of this conclusion, I will simply live. My children may benefit from the small portions I actually am able to write down but they don't care about my full book. They don't care about my swept floors or clean laundry.
I may never be known, famous or rich. Not to strangers. Not with money. But I am known every time my baby smiles at me. I am famous when I sit down on the floor and help build the same train track every day, three times a day. And let me tell you. I am surely rich. I am blessed to be more rich than I could ever imagine because I have four wonderful boys in my house. I have a husband who loves and appreciates me even if I don't have a clean house or a meal prepared or an income. I have a three year old who is still so innocent to give his Momma kisses and ask for help putting on his undies. I have a one year old who has carried on full sentence conversations with me for months, always ready for a hug and a snuggle. I have a six month old who knows the language of cooes and smiles and loves greater through his expressions than language could ever express. Yes, indeed, I am rich. Simply rich.
