Though 63-plus years have come and gone, it’s still fun- and probably a bit sad- to think about what I want to be when I grow up. There would seem to be a time crunch anymore, and let’s throw timidity and resignation into the mix as well.
My current occupation/vocation is not one I’ve ever dreamed of doing. To this day, Musician or Astronomer or Barista sound much more interesting. It’s not that I haven’t learned things about life and faith and human nature over the last 22 years. My time as a pastor in a mainline/old line denomination has expanded my world view and shaped my politics. And at times I have truly appreciated not being tied to a 9 to 5 existence.
It’d just be nice to know the feeling of working at something that doesn’t feel like work. Maybe this is a luxury out of my reach now. Maybe there’s no small amount of selfishness involved in such a pursuit. Maybe everything feels like work at some point in the day.
I’d like to know the feeling of putting in a 12-hour day and being so totally immersed in tasks at hand that I little note the passage of time. I hear others say they can’t believe they get paid for what they do? I want to know what that is like.
I remember my father asking me, on several occasions, if I thought I’d ever amount to anything. I never took this personally- in context it seemed more tongue in cheek than some sort of put-down. Besides, I seem to recall him asking my brothers and sisters the same question. In retrospect, it might have had as much to do with how Dad felt about himself as it did his desire for his children to know a level of accomplishment and satisfaction that, in his mind, had passed him by.
Or maybe he was just worried about me.
Anyways, I always answered “yes” to Dad’s question, with little basis for such confidence. Besides- to some extent, it’s not up to me to assess whether or not I’ve amounted to anything.
To the extent that it is up to me, I still feel like the jury is deliberating. Like I’m still on the road, as the former Cat Stevens once sang, to find out.