Goodnight to Another Day, Another Year

So, in 9 minutes I'll have another birthday.


Driving through Missouri today, I saw a house that  reminded me of one Andrew and I wanted to buy a few years ago. I almost stopped the truck. I can not accurately describe the emotions that ran through me. A seeming lifetime of dreams up in smoke in an instant.

Dreams have an interesting way of evolving. I don't imagine too many people have the same dreams at 40 as they had at 20. However, speaking for my own, I wouldn't have the same dreams today had I not had those same dreams at 20.  I'm reminded of a poem by Robert Frost, "as way leads on to way..."

When we met, we both "had a heart" for Africa. (That's missionary speak for a country towards which one feels a calling) We were going to go and work with orphans. It was going to be great. But then, after the children came along, we didn't want to force that way of life upon them, so our dream morphed. Other dreams came and went (no ocean going vessel for us). Some stayed long enough to see fruition. (He was finally awarded his patent with the USPTO) While yet others became every day speech, we were going to live in the country. Raise our kids on good air, clean water, polite manners, and hard work.

That's the dream that stuck.

Over time our "where" would change, and our "how" would evolve, but the dream of the country became a constant.

So there it was. The house on the hill. Overlooking the little valley. Just as we wanted it.

Here's the rub about a suicide without a note, I'll never know the truth. I'll never know what was him and what was the lie. What was the Andrew he wanted me to see, and what was the actual man. How many of those dreams were there just to dangle the proverbial carrot in front of my face?

The dreams I had with Andrew died with him along with so any other things on that day in August. I'll just never know.

I loved him, more than was healthy to love another human, I loved him. And slowly, almost imperceptibly, he killed that love. One day I awoke and knew that my love for him was dead. I told him as much. Oh, I agreed to stay with him. I'd do it for the kid's sake. But the love was dead.

The odd thing is, though, that the dreams never died.

A house, on the hill, in the country, with the clean air and the little stream. Chickens. Don't forget the chickens. I still desire it all.  (I'm working towards it, as a matter of fact.)

So, Happy Birthday to me.

I'm not meaning to sound too introspective. I'm just saying what's on my heart here. The past 9 months have brought about more changes than I could have ever hoped to ask. What's in God's plan for the next year? I'm looking forward to finding out.

I turned a corner a few months ago and realized that I'm the person I always wanted to be. I'm living the life I've always wanted. Yes, no country, no chickens, but I'm content and beyond content never the less. God is good all the time, even when I'm not looking for it.