Day 9,377(ish)

First day of November.

First day of using my new toothbrush.
First day of soaking wet pant hems (this school year).
First day of eating microwaved acorn squash.
First day of getting asked "if the school floods can we . . .?" over eight times.

Twenty fifth day of living the first of November.
Nine thousand three hundred and seventy seventh day of waking up.

That's a lot of wake ups. A lot of showers. A lot of smiles and hugs and moments of frustration. A lot of opportunities taken and a lot left behind. To be honest, this is not at all what I had pictured my life looking like as a 25-year-old. I mean, there were a lot of things I imagined my adult life looking like within the first two decades, and this doesn't even make the list:

I'm not in Africa -- not even overseas -- not saving animals :) -- not saving children -- not saving ANYbody -- not a mom -- not married -- not even in a relationship -- not published -- not in prison -- not pioneering new lands and new adventures -- not out-shouldering the crowd. Ok, sometimes I'm not even sure if I made it IN to the crowd. I guess sometimes I feel like I don't want to be in the crowd anyway. Or at least I used to feel like I didn't want to be in the crowd, because I was so confident I'd be ahead of them. And now that I feel like I'm lagging behind somehow, I feel like status quo sounds pretty great.

Yesterday, for Halloween, I was at a Corn Maze shaped like the State of Washington with my 3 housemates, and afterward I got to share coffee and heart-talk with one of them while the other two cruised the AWESOME merchandise flaunted at the Marysville outlet mall. We talked about the pain of letting go of dreams -- not because we feel like we can't attain them, but because we feel like we don't believe in them anyway, or at least not in the same way we used to. It felt somewhat comforting to connect with someone in that, but the dull ache followed me into today's coldness.

I don't know what I dream about anymore. I don't know how I want to live my life or what I really feel like it means to make a difference. It feels difficult to write on a blog titled "pinning words to dreams" when all of my former dreams seem laughable to me at this point. Is this what it means to become an adult?

My parents thought it was sinful to believe in Santa Claus when I was young, so they never led the older 3 of us kids in that deception. I remember wondering if it was painful for those who later found out that he wasn't real after all, or if they were just glad to have enjoyed believing in him for a while. All of my dreams strike me as Santa Clauses right now. I wouldn't mind that so much if I had a different one to replace them all with, but for now I'm just floating.

Thanks, Jesus, that You're not performance based. Thank You that You love me even if I never figure this out - even if there's nothing to figure out. Thank You that Your Kingdom is upside down, as hard as I try to make it right-side up. Thank You that life's not nearly so much about fulfilling dreams as I always thought. Thanks that it's really not even about doing something great or doing something right. I mean, I can go to the Bible and find 10 million things that You want me to do, nine million nine hundred ninety-nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine of which I'm probably not doing and feeling pretty incapable of doing right now.

But there's one thing I know You want me to do that I really want to do - and I know You're gonna help me. I just want to abide in You, Keeper. I just want to lay down at Your feet. I just want to be Your little handmaiden, Jesus. I just want to be found worshipping. I want that so bad.

That's the only thing I can dream about right now. Here I am.

Tomorrow, if I wake up for the 9, 378th time, I'm gonna get up smiling and consider Your goodness to me.