5 minutes

Five minutes to write, and then I gotta go do something else...
...like get ready for my date with that one boy?
...hm, probably more like take a nap. The SECOND one today!!
Yeah.
            Nap.
Thoughts...
sometimes it feels like thoughts just clutter my head, bouncing around. And then I want to write.
I wanted to be a writer when I was little.

Did you know that?

I learned to type when I was seven so I could write stories on the computer. My first story was about a dog named Nick and a cat (whose name escapes me) sneakily stealing some sausages from a cart.

Basically it had no plot. 

But I was just bursting with pride at my jumbled story. Side note: every character in every one of my stories was named Nick for about five years.

I was completely devoted to reading and writing, and the encouragement from my teachers made me feel like I would conquer the world. I would turn in 20 page stories in fourth grade every measly writing assignment. I remember my teachers standing in the hallway, holding up my story with my gawky handwriting and saying to another adult, when they thought I wasn't looking, "Did you know my student wrote this??"

I was so sure I was going to do that.

It was my dream.

Now, I've aged. My dreams changed from being an Indian-->Astronaut-->Author-->Concert Pianist-->Artist-->...

...to being a what?

It's not that I don't think I'll have a successful career; no, I'm sure that'll come.
But, I think whats come to constitute as my dream has changed.

What's my dream?
What do I hope for?
                                  Yearn for?

I don't think my dream will be fulfilled in a career.
No, I don't want to sum myself up and place all my hopes and expectations in something like that.

Too risky.

But what do I hope for?

I hope 

for hugs from a husband after he comes home from work. I hope for tiny, sticky hands slapping the counter-top and a messy living room cluttered with toys. I hope to have a home bursting with music and warm with loud laughter.

I hope to teach my children to sing the songs my parents taught me.

I hope to teach them the stories from the Book of Mormon that I've always loved.

I hope my hair will turn gray, but that my husband and I will still hold hands as we walk. I hope our hands grow wrinkled together.

Those are great dreams, yeah?

But...

....even they might not come true.

I know that all blessings will be given to me, but even righteous desires might not be fulfilled in this lifetime.

So.

What is my dream?

I dream 

of seeing the face of the Savior who saved me. I dream of recognizing His light. I dream of meeting my older sister and being able to truly speak with my Grandmother for the first time. I dream of a world of light where glory rises with the Sun. I dream of the peace and joy that will never leave me. I dream, most of all, to look into my Father's face and see His pride in me shining in His face. I dream that He will say, "Well done, my good and faithful servant."

                 I dream of singing for Him.

                    I think He'd like that.

That dream will be fulfilled. That is what I work for.

That is what I live for.

Enos 1: 27 And I soon go to the place of my ^arest, which is with my Redeemer; for I know that in him I shall ^brest. And I rejoice in the day when my ^cmortal shall put on ^dimmortality, and shall stand before him; then shall I see his face with pleasure, and he will say unto me: Come unto me, ye blessed, there is a place prepared for you in the ^emansions of my Father. Amen.

Oh yes, that took longer than five minutes.