The Importance of Knowing Oneself

"... Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the measure of faith God has given you." Romans 12:3


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So lately Tom and I are watching old Rockford Files reruns by way of Netflix until we're all bleary-eyed and wow. Do you remember how the outside of his, er, mobile home (I dislike the term 'trailer') looked beyond dreadfully depressing? Well, (now don't faint) the inside charms me.

Those three small rooms, (the living room/kitchen combined, the bathroom, the bedroom) even with their grey paneling, look cozy, what with their compactness and a-place-for-everything shelves and cupboards. 

And besides, Rockford's shoddy home sits on the beach (literally) and sometimes he walks to the ocean's edge and fishes for his breakfast, barbeque's it, then sits at his picnic table outside his front door. Or most often, he walks over to the old-fashioned taco stand just yards away and orders two tacos.

Tacos for breakfast! I could get into something like that.

Oh, that ol' Jim Rockford had it made living inside that beat-up old single-wide. And you know? Sometimes I stare at the tv screen and think, "Tom and I could live like that! I'd make a little office for me in the bedroom and Tom would stay in the living room. I'd enjoy the challenge. It would be cozy. It would be sweet."

Ha! It would be a nightmare. I mean, this past winter we barely survived sharing these five rooms downstairs. 

But of course, living in a tiny place on a huge beach in Malibu, well, now that would be different! We'd have the whole great outdoors--and no snow! But, alas, there would be fog. I hate fog. And we'd have to share that beach--Rockford had no privacy once he stepped outside his front door. None. Nada.Zip.

And I do need my privacy. 

And I need to have cats, also, and well, there'd be no room for those in such a tiny place (just where would the litter box go?). 

The taco stand a stone's throw away would be terrific--for awhile. But I'd grow tired of that greasy smell and of course, I'd nag poor ol' Tom like crazy about eating there, not to mention the temptation to eat tacos every meal, myself, would win over my own common sense.

But at least we could walk it off, what with all that beach! Well, no, I could walk it off. Tom needs solid ground on which to walk. Oh well, maybe he could squeeze an exercise bike into his living room. Along with his guitars, tractor books, amplifiers and roll-around tool boxes. heh.

Ha! It's fun to dream, isn't it? Especially when those dreams help us hone into what we really want and what would work. When those dreams reveal to us who we really are, not who we suppose ourselves to be.

Since moving to this farm I've learned more than I ever wanted to know about myself and in all the learning, it's been the best of times, the worst of times.

But mostly the best. 

Because of owning all this land and a barn, orchard, old farmhouse? Partly. But for me, the best part was getting real with myself and gaining this new caution light inside my head, one alerting me that not every dream inside my head is God-inspired.

And also, I've learned some things are best enjoyed while I simply watch others doing them.

Now I realize not every dream, if given an opportunity, is meant to live, to breathe. Some dreams are meant simply to keep us going, to give us a land in which to escape during hard times. 

Some dreams are simply places to go until God restores to us the strength and creativity to make our own reality into the greatest dream of all.




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In case you're wondering--no, I do not regret buying this farm. I'll never regret it. But the reasons for my thankfulness are totally different than what I would have, years ago, supposed. 

It's taught me more than any college or Bible course ever could (and via a more lovely, fun method).



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