a decent happiness

Sometimes I wonder about all the youthful free-spirited dreams I once held dear and whether or not I have traded them away wisely. There was a time in childhood that what I wanted more then anything in the world was to fly away to Africa and work in a mission. I could see myself in dreams, brightly clad, turbaned and mussy hair, grubby hands and a giant smile. Later, I dreamed of roaring across country in a van, maybe living off the land somewhere, fit and brown and barefoot, smelling of patchouli and sweat. Later, the visions were of graduate school, tenure at some small teaching college in the heartland, somewhere progressive and free where I could impart my dearest convictions to eager young souls. Yet, here I sit in my meager little life, and looking back I find that I have little to show for these 33 years of human effort. Was it worth it to have traded away all these fantasies for a decent happiness?

Most often I come down on the side of the affirmative and I swear up and down that I would not trade my peaceful but rather average life for that of even the most wild adventurer. But reading these past days of my friend's strange exploits in untamed lands I cannot help but feel myself rather too settled, my life somewhat colorless, my mediocre ambitions rather prosaic and dull. And I cannot help but feel that is far too late to begin anew.

But even as I write this, perched as I am on my dear front porch, I cannot help but smile up at the apple tree spouting its fragrant pink blossoms, and I nod to the cheery tree, wildly trying to catch up to its grander neighbor. I look around at the tiny miracles of my every day - the forget-me-knots and the valerian striving madly for the bits of sun that pierce the near constant spring cloud cover, the tomato and basil starts molding, thirsty and tangled in the back room, the lustrous mustard-yellow paint bedecking our modest living room, the cat curled like a conch on the sofa - and I can't help but acknowledge the great luck that has been mine. And how much more so am I amazed when I consider the great joy in having so many good-hearted friends, a loving family, a devoted and intelligent husband.

And so I accede that my trade was well worth it. I may not be a grand adventurer, or a pioneer of good works, or a professional with accolades and degrees and money to burn, but I have love -so much love -and who am I to wish for more?

As the good book says:

"Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing. And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profits me nothing.”