Lately I've been thinking so much about the future. Probably because I just can't seem to grasp ahold of any of it. Every facet of life is currently unstable and uncertain.
So when I daydream, it's not about next Tuesday, or next year, it's often so far down the road, it feels like it may never happen. Maybe that's why I like it so, it has a touch of magic.
Tonight I was sitting on the front porch, just daydreaming, and attempting to read. But I was distracted by the sounds of a father and son playing basketball across the street.
Lately my mind often wanders to my daughter.
I have held her in my heart for over a decade. I have her name picked out, before I even know of her existence. I don't know if she will be born from this body, or if she will join us through adoption. I haven't met her father, and have no way of knowing when she will enter my life. I may still be years from holding her.
But I still think about her.
I'll bet she'll have wild hair, and a spunky streak. If she's anything like her mama, I would guess that keeping shoes on her feet will be near impossible. I imagine that books may be one of her first and most passionate loves. And I would hope that she loves big.
I think about the stories I want to tell her one day. Of when God showed Himself faithful, time after time. Of all the fun and silly roads trips with my family. Of all of the people I loved and that loved me right back. Of adventures to South America, alone. Of when I vacationed with 200 girls I had never met. Of all of my bad dates while I waited for her daddy. Of my favorite whimsical small town. Of moments when I wanted to hold her, I thought my heart would just burst with anticipation.
Oh how I want to freeze time while I soak up every second to share with her one day. But also how I want to fast forward to meeting her daddy, and meeting her.
I know I have this beautiful life to live, right now, in the present. I don't want to wish it away. But I don't want to stop daydreaming.
So for now, as the storm blows in, I'm freezing this moment and ignoring the present troubles for a few more seconds while I think of little A, and how one day, I'll be able to tell her of all of my adventures with my Jesus, my wild hair, and my bare feet.