|The view from my friend's window|
Over the years I have expanded my dream. It doesn't have to be New England with its arm's length relationships (at least to outsiders and especially southern hillbillies like myself, or so I've heard) and its super-expensive real estate. Any place that is chock full of history and snow, "old and cold," will do. And, of course, let's ditch the cities altogether for a more small town/rural atmosphere.
Sure, maybe I am delusional. I am sure there are plenty who would say that I don't know what I am asking for. I remember one time saying to someone that I wanted to live where it snows a lot and he replied, "No, you don't." Well, really, I do.
So it just hurts, especially at this time of year, to see images of something I have dreamed of for as much of my 50 years as it is capable of dreaming of such things.
Sure, maybe I just want to live in a Currier and Ives etching or a Norman Rockwell print. But I know those places are real because my friends' photos tell me so.
|Watch Knob and The Four Brothers, Swannanoa, NC|
I don't know what it is that makes me think I can, or should, have everything I want. I already have so much. Maybe it is my desire to have heaven, or at least MY version of heaven, on earth. Maybe it is my built in Grass Is Always Greener gene, an obvious result of mankind's fallen condition. Maybe it is the I Want What I Want When I Want It, yet another result of the fall. These all result in the spirit of discontentment, within which I live an alarmingly large portion of my life.
Every so often the truth hits me. This life is not all there is. Maybe these longings are good, as they point to something better, to something more. I was not placed on this earth to just get what I want, even if what I want isn't money or fame or fortune but small towns and old houses and snow. I was placed on this earth to love the way God loves me and instructs me to love others, regardless of weather or time or place.
There is an eternity to enjoy heaven, I do not have to have my version of it for this short time on earth. In letting go of that I am free to do what I was created to do. That indeed is good news.
Growing up in Mississippi, I also yearned for that Currier and Ives Christmas scene. We never got snow. Then I lived 6 years in Iowa (and one in Mass.), and I did get all the snow (and then some) that I'd longed for. And I don't miss it now that I'm back in the South, I'm happy to recall the years of snow and being snowed-in, but I realized that there's a mysterious beauty in the Southern winter too, and I didn't realize it until I was away. I love it now.ReplyDelete
Hey! I know that window :) hugs...ReplyDelete