A Year in the Life

My baby girl just turned a year old recently which has started me thinking a lot about time. The Broadway musical Rent comes to mind with the song Seasons of Love. "How do you measure a year in the life?"
I can think back to a time when the only thing that mattered was me. It seems like such a long time back. I got married almost two years ago. I was 22 years old, far too young. My way of thinking was very selfish and I thought that if I could just be married, I could get out of the town I was living in, away from everything and I could live happily ever after. I'm good at running away. It's one thing that my dad taught me to do. He would come home from work and escape to his office and stay there until we were in bed almost asleep. I learned early on that my wants weren't important to my dad and, because there were so many kids to take care of, I often retreated to my own world where everything was perfect and I was someone who mattered. Now, all this to say, my childhood was by far so much better than a lot of childhoods. I was never abused, my mother loved me unconditionally, my dad stayed with my mom despite everything and I had a roof over my head, food in my belly, and clothes on my back. By the time I was twelve years old, I knew what I wanted to do. I wanted to be a missionary in Africa. I dreamed of leaving my very small hometown and going on wonderful safaris through the jungles and plains of the African land. That dream never left, and when I turned eighteen years old, I decided it was time to pursue it. I did, only not to Africa. I ended up in Lima, Peru, which was quite alright with me. Volunteering my time has never been so satisfying. I was there for four months and I still remember the day I got off the plane like it was yesterday. I wasn't running away from anything-I was simply fulfilling my calling and following my heart and I had the best and most challenging four months of my life. My family moved to Washington state shortly after I returned home, and I let time get the better of me. One of my worst faults is my impatience and it seemed like I was falling behind because I had so many friends who were settling down, getting married and having babies. I had no desire to go to college. Never had. And then I met the boy. The boy that I married. Our relationship was so complicated it would take a whole book to write about that one, but somehow we ended up married. My soldier. Both of us 22 years old and far too young. Of course we didn't care. Who cares about what the future is going to bring when you're "in love?" You never stop to think about the fact that he is going to disappoint you somehow, sometime, and you're going to do the same to him. You don't realize that life is going to be just the same as before, only now you have to work on a committed relationship and choose to love this person after the feelings of having a crush on this person go away. You only think about now, and fantasize about what you don't know. I have never regretted our decision to marry. I have questioned myself, but who doesn't? I love him. Regardless of everything, I love that man. And he loves me. Boy, does he love me. So it's been almost two years. Our daughter is a year old. Having a child was similar to getting married. I fantasized about what I didn't know; I never realized how much of myself I would have to give away. Everything. Not just my time, but my dreams, my heart, my whole life. It has been a year and I am still adjusting to putting my whole life on hold for this one little person. This little girl who wakes me up in the middle of a perfectly good sleep because she's ready to play; who I have to train to be a godly, respectful member of society; who I will eventually have to let go so she can live out her dreams and make decisions on her own. I will disappoint her sometimes, and her me. I will have to choose to love her despite everything.
It seems like such a long time ago I was a little girl myself hiding in my own private world away from reality. It feels like yesterday that I was stepping off the plane to an exciting new culture. It seems like a lifetime since I began traveling the marriage and new mom road. Through the years I've learned that sometimes it's not good to run away, and although I may not always feel important, I am. My dreams may be on the back burner right now, but that doesn't mean time has escaped me. So the question remains, "How do you measure a year in the life?" My answer? If you don't know by now, read again. It's in there.