This week, I was waxing nostalgic about 2010.
2010 was a banner year. We met people and had experiences that changed us, forever. We traveled more miles than any other year. If I were speaking superficially, I would say that we were at the top of our game.
Oh sure, there were setbacks. There was a particular situation that left me angry and a little violence-leaning a lot of the time (no violence was committed, just fantasized about. Hey, I’m human, and the weapon was just a folding chair…)
And now, when I get defeated or disappointed or mournful, I think about 2010 and wonder if that was when I “peaked.”
You know, at the ripe age of 33. (I did proclaim it my year of perfect, as at age 33, Jesus completed His ministry on Earth).
Rod tells me this is foolish, stupid thinking. He is probably right.
But sometimes I feel like, even though I believe I was “born to fly” (thank you, Sara Evans), my wings have been clipped… or at the very least, I am living in a box that is nailed to the ground.
Is is delusions of grandeur I have? Or am I really called to, meant for, something other than “this”? …understanding that “this,” my life, my family, my job, my home, it is All Good.
Am I just never satisfied? Or is there more? And if there is more, “How do you wait for Heaven? And who has that much time? And how do you keep your feet on the ground when you know you were born to fly?”