When I Grow Up.........

Well, it's a little later than some, but I finally know what I want to be when I grow up. When I was little, I wanted to be a teacher. Still do. But now, I know that being a teacher can come in many forms. I do want to teach. I want to live near the ocean. Have a little house. Not too much to clean. You know, not one of those mansions that you see for rent. Just enough.
When I grow up, I want to be a good friend. No matter where my friends are or how they are doing. I want to have a sensitive heart. I want to see them and embrace them.
I want to write. Lots and lots. I want to be used. Poured out. In this manner. It is a passion. A desire. A dream. Maybe a columnist. Maybe a new sort or Erma Bombeck. I love her. My heroes...Lucy and Erma. No wonder I'm so weird. I don't want to write things that are perfect. I want to write things that are constantly growing. Changing. Morphing. Learning. I only desire that they touch deeply into at least one other heart.
When I grow up, I want to wear lots of cute clothes. Even when I'm cleaning house or gardening. And scarves in my hair. I want to sit in the sun or the shade and read a book and sip lemonade. I want to be near enough to the ocean that I can walk the beach regularly and look up to the One who loves me most.
I want to inspire those coming behind me. Not by my perfection but by my genuine and complete love. Not to be walked on. But to love deeply from the heart.
I want to travel. Not expensively. Not to see the great wonders. I simply want to see places and people. I want to sit in the coffee shops or on the streets and have a tea or a coffee and spend the evenings enjoying the scenery and the normal people.
I want to grow up. I want to keep dreaming. And when I am 65, I hope that I have more hopes and dreams for more growing up........and when I'm 75..........85...........95........105. As long as I have breath I want to keep growing up. To the One who made me to be me. At each stage. With everything.
blessings,
rhonda