Does your life look the way you thought it would?
Does your life look the way you thought it would?
What had you imagined for yourself five, ten, thirty years ago? Was it an accurate picture? I don’t think I had a specific future outlined, more just a general feeling or mood. Aside from playing MASH (Mansion, Apartment, Shack, House—anyone remember that?) in elementary school, I did not envision how many children I would have or where I would live or even my profession. I remained undecided about a major and career well through college. Only in graduate school did I sense a call to the priesthood (I actually went to divinity school thinking I would teach).
Yet looking back on what I loved to do as a child and teen, where I am now makes a lot of sense. I liked writing and teaching and public speaking, which I get to do as a priest. I hated having my day dictated by someone else and having to do everything with a large group, as was the way of public school. I have plenty of autonomy now. I knew I wanted a spouse who would talk and share deep things, and I found that in Dan.
I was not always certain that I wanted kids, and I identified concerns about growing a family that still niggle at me sometimes. I loved the world of ideas I found my immersed in during college and graduate school; I loved passionate arguments about politics and history and ethics and religion and all sorts of other topics that were not considered polite conversation and almost never happened (at least thoughtfully and civilly) outside of these spaces; I loved how convicted I became about social justice issues and willing to try to create change. As a young twentysomething, I worried that marriage and children would change my headspace and make my world smaller—and I was right.
Things are different now. When I have a household to manage and afford, children’s activities to schedule, and small humans who need lots of support, I do not have the same brain space left for those big questions which captivated me as a young adult. My story is unique; it happens to many of us. Part of why I like being around college-aged people so much is vicariously experiencing their appetite for questioning and reimagining. Of course it makes a tremendous impact upon the world to raise a human being—just a different kind of impact than, for instance, rewriting public policy. It is a matter of going deep versus going wide.
Then again, I can smile at how predictable certain parts of my life are. I have a black lab rescue (we always had black labs growing up). I still run like I did in high school but not competitively. In a very full circle way, I ended up back in my hometown. My children attend the same elementary school that I attended.
What most surprises me are little things that I thought would bother me but in fact do not. I am very okay with who I am becoming. I never thought I would drive a minivan, yet now I am a proud Toyota Sienna owner, and I will sing the praises of a minivan all day long. I care about and notice dirt and dust and scum in the house now than I used to. Early on in our marriage, Dan and I were very anti-TV-in-the-living room; now we have one and enjoy watching family movies. There are a few theological and liturgical things that I felt very strongly about fresh out of seminary that I now hold a bit more loosely (experience will do that to you).
Regardless, I like asking the question of myself regularly: Does life look the way I imagined it would? People grow and evolve; it would be strange to envision a life ten years in the future and fulfill it completely. But if I do change course, I want to be intentional and not unconsciously and aimlessly drift. Maybe the more important question, then, is: Am I okay with how my life actually looks?