Growing up, my number one fantasy was to be a singer. Even now, I will belt out a few bars of “Leaving on a Jet Plane” or “City of New Orleans” accompanied by a maladroit attempt at the guitar. The performance is strictly for immediate family, though, and is usually aborted by one of the kids blocking his ears with his palms and yelling “BLAH, BLAH, BLAH, BLAH!”
Growing up, my number one fantasy was to be a singer. Even now, I will belt out a few bars of “Leaving on a Jet Plane” or “City of New Orleans” accompanied by a maladroit attempt at the guitar. The performance is strictly for immediate family, though, and is usually aborted by one of the kids blocking his ears with his palms and yelling “BLAH, BLAH, BLAH, BLAH!”
“Mommy’s practicing!” I’ll yell back, obviously irritated by my kids’ absence of appreciation of the arts. Practicing for what? They are still too young to entertain that logical question, so the claim alone is good enough reason to buy me a couple more minutes of “practice.” No, you will never catch me on an American Idol audition tape, but I do intend to, one day, procure guitar lessons.
Another thing I’ve wanted for years is a Grand Piano. Chuck almost bought me one several years back, but we decided to buy a boat instead. Really, the piano would have been a completely impractical purchase, given that none of us knows how to play. The boat, on the other hand, is something the whole family can enjoy.
It’s a good thing that we didn’t get the piano because a year or so later, when Chuck’s employer handed him a severance package and wished him well, we sold our Grand Piano sized house and moved into one more suited for a portable keyboard. What about the boat? We should have invested that money elsewhere, too. We are self-employed and self-financing a start-up for our own future financial freedom and now that 24-foot-money-pit sits, underused and under-appreciated, in a slip on Lake Travis.
One day, after we sell the boat or it sinks, I will have my Grand Piano and will force my boys to not only take but never quit their lessons the way I did. In return for their diligence, I promise that I will never, never trade our piano for an organ the way my mother did. I was gutted.
Writing has also been a favorite pastime of mine. For years I’ve kept journals, written essays and letters and edited gobs of stuff for other people. Now that I have my own little piece of the “blog-o-sphere” I just type my little heart away, click the “publish” icon and, voila, I’m now a published author! How cool is that!? I just need to figure out how to get paid to write so I can afford a piano and some music lessons.
Now that I’m older, and with a few pregnancies under my belt - still under my belt - my dreams have expanded to include full body liposuction and breast augmentation. I’ve even asked God to perform a miracle and let me wake one morning to find that my body fat has shrunk to 11% of my bodyweight and everything is firm and tight. I guess my motives must be inconsistent with His plan for me, though, because it has not yet happened. If I want it bad enough, I’ll just have to work for it.
I also have dreams for my kids. I want them to see that their mom and dad are committed to each other above all else. I want them to see that Jesus is alive and well and changing lives. I want them to be free to express themselves, unhindered by self-doubt. I want them to know that they are unconditionally loved by many. I want them to be blessings to the world and pursue their dreams with passion.
Merely “existing” is not enough. To paraphrase C. S. Lewis: You cannot be the good egg forever; sooner or later you must either hatch, or rot.