Preface. I didn’t think I’d ever write this publicly. I was commenting over at E’s place and… now is the time. It’s a lot more naked than I customarily get on this blog.
What are dreams made of? For me, dreams are made of beauty and goodness and truth – and purpose.
I want what I have wanted for years – a place in the country. Somewhere I can have my friends over for ages if they like. Somewhere I can grow my food and chase rainbows and dance outside my front door without alarming my neighbors. Without seeing my neighbors, please. (One of my least favorite things is that exiting my home makes instantly visible – even in my backyard. Heck. Even in my patio, if my neighbor is on the hill. Those of you private people are shuddering with me, yes? I had a neighbor once that I realized could see *into my home* and was watching me my nurse my daughter on my couch *in my living room* -justugh-) I want to do proper preps. I know *how* to do most of this stuff, and what I don’t know, my husband seems to (I don’t know how he know, he just does. ‘Tis a mystery. What neither of us know, my farm-girl mom has done).
I ache to spend my days working with my hands and my heart. Once upon a time, my husband and I did a lot of hospitality. Our home was a home for broken hearts, a place of peace and safety and love. It got to be a bit of a joke between the two of us, but we loved it. I want friends to visit and stay with me. I want to feed them. Feeding people I love is very nearly the Prime Directive. Loving them as they heal is one of the things I have been for. I don’t know if it still is, but I wouldn’t mind finding out. I *enjoy* loving people. That is definitely a thing I am for. Healing people might be. (No I don’t have the gift of healing, yes, I’ve pursued that).
I want room to have an extra house on the property for my folks to live. I’m an only. They’re in their late 70s. I’d like them nice and close and convenient to keep an eye on. My grandpa had dementia. I learned a lot of anti-lessons, and I have some very strong preferences here.
My husband is brilliant with his hands and loves to fix stuff. I’d love to see him have all the room he needs to spread out and fiddle to his heart’s content. To see him pursue his real interests. I want to see what’s in his imagination, hidden by all this concrete. I want to see him in a job where he’s properly appreciated. I want to see him stretch his wings and fly. See him play. Grow things together. That would be a goodness.
I’d like to see my kids fledge somewhere they could start their lives close to home. Grandbabies someday would be a goodness.
I have some things to say in writing. That would be nice, to feel like I made a difference in the wider world. I’ve done rather a lot of research. It would be good to get a few books out in the universe… and it would be Much Better to have proper work that I do, a way to contribute financially and bear some of that load. Imagine, if I lived somewhere it snowed, I might have to stay out of the garden and be at the keyboard for a few months/year. And at my sewing machine. I’m well suited to shifting my pursuits seasonally, it keeps me focused. I found out that I’m pretty decent at public speaking and not in the least afraid. I would like to use that.
I would like to do the things I am good at, the things that I love. I enjoy working for purpose.
I want to spread beauty and love and God.
When God wills, dreams will come true.