A Provocative Question

The room was crowded, and neither of us wanted any of the cocktails or Hors d’oeuvres’ so my friend, Hilda, and I were pleased when we saw two chairs available at one of the small round tables on the perimeter of the doorway.

It was a charity event, and the dining room had yet to be opened.  Our two companions at the table introduced themselves, and made us welcome.  Before we had a chance to reply, an old friend interrupted to tell me she had read something I had written.

As she departed, the gentleman we were sitting with asked me a few questions and then “Are you living your dream?”  I answered without thinking, “I am.”  Just at that moment dinner was announced, and we bade each other goodbye as we looked for our tables.

Yet the question, and even more so my spontaneous reply, lingered throughout the evening.  It was something I had never thought about before.  While I was surprised at the question, I was equally astounded at my rapid reaction.

Dreams weren’t something discussed or openly spoken of while I was young.  The road we were on seemed unswerving; stay out of trouble, get some education (not too much) and find a job, never a career but a job.  It sounds dismal, but it wasn’t, just an accepted fact of life.

But secretly I did have a dream  I knew it when I heard Snow White sing the simplistic but lovely song, “Someday My Prince Will Come.”  I never spoke of it, and often wondered if it was unrealistic.  Yet miraculously it came true, and then my life changed abruptly.

Children had never been part of the youthful dream, but God gave them to us along with a joy I had never dared to acknowledge.  Four beautiful young lives were sent into our care.  That was the second part of the dream I had not dared to allow myself.

There were a series of books for children I read incessantly.  It was the chronicle of The Bobbsey Twins.  I loved their house as much as I loved the characters.  I loved the fact that they walked down a street lined with trees, but I didn’t dare to imagine one day I could do that. It seemed out of the realm of possibility.  Yet before I was 26 I was living on a street lined with trees.

And then the major part of what my companion called, “My Dream.”  A lif for 57 years with someone I loved, admired, laughed and cried with and who shared all of life’s joys, sorrows, traumas, and richness with me.  Dreams are made of cotton candy; fluffy and soft and without stability.  Possibly life could be described in the same terms.  No day is like the other.  Certainly no year was identical with the previous or the following one.  Each one was an adventure; some more difficult, others full of surprising successes.  It is easy to understand why such a provocative question from a total stranger was so simplistic to answer.  I have been blessed with more during the time God has allowed me than any dream I could ever conjure.

So thank you, my unknown interrogator, you made me count my blessings.  Gratias!