I remember in grade school we had an assignment to write down what it is we wanted to do when we grew up. (Anybody form NHS class of ’99 remember?) Pretty typical assignment. I usually ask my students the same thing every year. We had a little fun reading our replies at a class reunion a while back.
Anyhow, I remember that day. As little me wrote down my life dreams and listened to my classmates hopes and goals I began to worry. ( I was a worrying child) I sat and listened as the teacher read each one aloud. Doctors, sports stars, families, cars, houses, college; all these things worked their way into my classmates’ goals.
I thought about mine: To help people get the things they need and to run an orphanage. I think this was third grade. I didn’t have a clue how I would actually achieve these goals. I had never heard of social workers or foster parents. I began to panic a little and to think that maybe I was a bit “off” and nobody had the heart to tell me yet.
I remember going up to my teacher in quiet anxiety. I told her my fears. What if my goals aren’t grand enough? Did I do something wrong? Will I fail somehow because I didn’t even consider going to college an important thing for my future? (I told you I was a worrying child)
I can’t remember her exact words but I do remember the effect. She said so solemnly and clearly that my goals were great indeed. So, here I am many years later and I can honestly say my goals haven’t changed much. I still want to save the world. I want to take all the unwanted babies into my arms. I want to help and to give and to love.
I know I miss that goal often. Truthfully, I run out of strength and simply cannot physically do much at the end of my work day. I just wanted to let you know, if you need me I am here.