What do you want to be when you grow up?  Good question.    Is there just one thing to be? Can one definition truly describe the moments, people, talents, and dreams of one life? If we fail to realize one dream, does that negate whatever else we are? Selfishly, I hope the answer to that last question is “no”. I haven’t yet discovered a remote village in the Amazon jungle, nor a cure for the common cold. However, I have found that hairspray removes ink stains and that carpet cleaner works great as a pre-soak for my son’s greasy clothes.

     What am? First of all, I am a Christian. I beleive in a God who is not unlike a parent–loving, stern, hopeful, and forgiving. Unfortunately I forget to strive every moment to please Him, much like most children do not strive always to make their parents happy. But always, I revere Him, trust Him, and pray that He is not keeping score because I have many faults. I do however, see His hand moving in my life and for that ability to see Him at work, I am thankful. Somehow I feel that despite my shortcomings, I am yet able to recognize Him and His works; thereby, I rationalize that I am not so out of tune with Him.  Is this attitude toward my spiritual life wrong? I don’t know. I question my attitudes and actions daily. Though I get many things wrong, I try to always have a loving and forgiving spirit toward others because I am unworthy to judge, well, at least not too much.

     What else am I? I am a mother. Am I a good mother? I have occasionally heard some of my students whisper, “Mother . . .” as I walked away. I didn’t quite get all that they were saying, but if others are talking about it, I guess I must be okay.

     When my children were younger I could change a diaper, wipe a runny nose and cook supper with only a few flicks of my wrist. So far my children don’t seem too dysfunctional–they’re not ax murdering drug dealers or anything like that. I guess I haven’t marred them beyond human recognition. However, I must admit that having children can be quite disconcerting for a person who likes to make sure she rehearses everything.  Nonetheless, I have tried to be the best that I could be: I read to them, held them, loved them, danced with them across the room while listening to classical music, took them to church, and most importantly, I let them make mistakes in an environment surrounded by love. Are they perfect? NO. Will they be successful? Who knows? By what standards?