This is a picture of one of our cousins. He decided he wanted to dress himself that day.
I look back to when I was that age and I remember wanting to wear heels, dresses and handbags just like my mum. I wanted to grow up. I wanted to be big and smart and accomplished.
And now I’m here – grown up…apparently.
My birthday’s coming up.
Am I where I wanted to be?
As a seven-year-old, and even as a seventeen-year-old I thought I wanted to have kids by now (maybe even two). I thought I’d have graduated university; I’d have a job I loved. But I don’t.
Yet, why am I not sad?
There was a point where I think I did mourn not having it all when I wanted it, but my heart is full.
I have God. He is always gracious, patient and devoted to me.
I have Lynden. He is amazing, loyal, funny, the best friend I’ve ever had and the man that is better than I could have ever dreamed of.
I have Asterix. A little cat who depends on me to love, feed and protect him – it’s nice to be needed.
I have two sets of family’s that I get to call my own.
I have friends to laugh with.
I have a purpose for my future – to teach and to be a mother.
I am happy.
My life has not gone in the same direction I had planned. But it’s better now. I know what I want and what I need. I haven’t rushed.
There was a point where I thought growing up was the biggest disappointment ever.
I’m no longer disappointed.
I’m excited; there’s so much to look forward to and so much to enjoy right now.
Growing up is quite grand actually.
Even in the chaos of it all; in the busyness and responsibility of adulthood, I have the freedom to think and believe and hope.
Yes, I’m enjoying growing up.