58: of girl friends and hidden, long-held dreams

Girl friends are amazing, aren't they? My birthday was last weekend, the first week of school just ended, and I have been surrounded by quality, loving girl friends, and I thank God so much for them. I used to be a rather lonely girl. And sometimes I still have bouts of loneliness, like when I'm hormonal and it's late at night and everyone in the house is busy or gone to bed and I'm left alone with my neglectful dog (she's only neglectful when she wishes me to turn off the light and go to sleep like her). But now God has brought me into a season of bounty. I don't have just one friend far off. And I don't have to say that all my friends are on Facebook, like I did tell someone, quite seriously, rather emotionally, one eve several months ago. God has given me friends right here, local friends. Who doesn't pine for local friends? They might move away or move on sometime in the near future, I don't know, but I have them now, they are a blessing from God, and I'm thankful, so thankful.

~*~ 

Meanwhile, I want to blog for a second about the dream.

I've held onto the dream so long that lately I've wondered if I'm really ready for it to become reality.

I suppose I've thought that thought often throughout the years, but the farther into my lifespan I get, the looser I have to hold onto the dream out of necessity. I have to hold it with one hand while swimming forward into other channels with the other. And sometimes I have to use the hand clasped over the dream to swim too so that I am propelling forward with my "career," fully enjoying the current, knowing I'm in the middle of God's will, as they say, and yet my dream is right there with me, part of me as I go this way and that. But it's hidden inside my palm, stubby fingers wrapped over it. Like Tinker Bell almost, clasped inside so you can't see the light and glitter.

I start to wonder if I opened my hand, if the dream became reality, if it would be light and glitter. Or if the dream has lost all its glow because of the delay, because of the exposure to other elements, other joys, other dreams.

When God opens my hand and lets the dream out into bright of day, will I really be ready to enter that season of life? Will I find marriage and homeschooling all that I ever wanted? Will my new desires and pleasures--found out of the necessity to live with hope deferred--keep me from fully entering in and appreciating what I thought I always wanted?

I say this is all I've ever wanted to be, wife and mother.

Is it still?