I must admit, my life didn’t turn out to be anything that I expected. I expected: to be a veterinarian, then a missionary school teacher, then a writer. I turned out to be a sometimes writer, sometimes preschool teacher but mostly a school janitor. I expected: to be a mom forever with my kids close by. I turned out to be a wanna be mom with one of my kids far away and the others not needing me near as much as I need them. I expected to be: happily married to my Prince Charming just like in the Disney movies. I turned out to be tolerably married to someone who’s a work in progress. That’s all right. The only way I qualify for Cinderella is the work I’m always doing around the house. I expected to be: put together by 54. I turned out to be still a mess.
Why is it that our hopes and dreams don’t match up to our expectations? Did I not try hard enough? Did I settle for less than what I imagined I could be? Did I just give up? More than likely, I just took what life offered and made the best of what I had.
I’ve been thinking a lot about life lately. If we keep telling ourselves that this is not the life we want, we start believing it. Instead, I need to believe that what I have is a good life, and that it can be better if my attitude is better. If I say to myself, I’ve got a good husband that is trying to improve. He just recently started helping me with the dishes and the wash. If I say to myself, I’ve got good kids that for some unknown reason still want me in their lives. If I say to myself, I’ve still got my parents when many others my age have lost theirs. If I say to myself, there’s still room for achievements in my life and try to be more thankful for the ones I’ve already had.
Then the curve balls in life won’t become foul balls. They might even turn into home runs.