My college schoolmates Ron and Debbie are visiting us this weekend. We chatted about those days back in the early 1980s when they were dating each other, and I was in a class with Ron and worked at summer camp with Debbie. I don't remember those days very well anymore. Too much life experience to keep track of, I suppose. And I wasn't into keeping track of friends back then. I was single-minded about what I was doing, and it was this: I was going to get my education and my elementary teaching credential and then leave the United States to teach in an overseas school somewhere. I had grown up as a missionaries' kid and had a deep commitment to carrying on that mission in my own life. Since I was just passing through, why make close friends to whom I would have to say goodbye again in four years or less?
As I recounted the story last night, I realized yet again how my dream has been hijacked. The men working for the mission office of the church told me to get some teaching experience and a masters degree before they would send me out. So I got my two years of teaching experience and my masters degree. As I finished my degree, a principal I had interned with invited me to teach at his school. I admired his style of leadership and wanted to learn from him, so I accepted the invitation, teaching and doing administration at that school for six years. In the meantime, I did a short term mission stint the first summer, teaching in the Philippines. To my dismay, I began to suspect during that time that I might not have the emotional strength to thrive as a young single woman in the mission field. When the next call came to serve--this time as a teacher in Malawi--and a corresponding door opened for career advancement where I was, it seemed that an inner quiet urge was guiding me to walk through the career advancement door. I cried, said "no" to the folk in Malawi, and took on the new administrative role.
Bit by bit, I saw my dream of returning to work overseas slipping away as I walked through the open doors that I believe God placed in front of me. Getting a doctorate overqualified me for teaching in the small remote mission schools, and I wasn't sure if I was needed in any overseas college or university. Those countries have educated people who can teach and lead within their own language and culture.
And then there are the increasingly complex family issues. Getting married to Husband provided the life partner I'd hoped for in dreaming of working overseas--but he had teenaged and young adult children and we felt we needed to stay here for them. As the grandkids have arrived and our commitment to being here for our parents has strengthened, my dream has seemed ever more faint, particularly as I've continued to say "no" to the occasional invitation from my native side of the globe.
As I talked about this with my college friends last night, I once again felt the grief at not following my dream. "I still talk about it," I told Debbie and Ron. "I even mentioned it to Husband again yesterday. Maybe when we're old, we'll go."
"Or maybe your dream has been following you," Husband chimed in on the conversation.
I had a momentary vivid picture of looking over my shoulder and seeing the dream I was supposed to dream, stepping sprightly along behind me and wondering when I was going to notice it. I have, after all, been living a fascinating life and learning many lessons for which I am [mostly] extremely grateful. I wouldn't trade it in, so far. Maybe, instead of following my dream, I should be checking over my shoulder to find out what dream has been following me.
Maybe. I still love the idea of going overseas to serve somewhere. I'll let you know if that ever works out. In the meantime, I'm intrigued and might get better acquainted with this other one I've noticed. I suspect that one day we might be friends.
"God never leads his children otherwise than they would choose to be led, if they could see the end from the beginning and discern the glory of the purpose they are fulfilling as coworkers with Him." --E. G. White
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