I silently dream of finding a comfy chair with a stream of sunlight pouring in, a cup of tea by my side, and pouring myself deeply into a book. Sometimes I have a specific book in mind, other times it's just that feeling of doing something I love that pulls me in.
My thoughts then wander to a place where I'm the writer haunted by producing the right words that will jump off the page and enter a person's heart in a way that they crave that time with my work. I picture my desk by my window stacked with books and articles and inspiration and dirty coffee cups and candles burned to the quick. And me happily, frantically, desperately torn in the struggle of creating greatness.
These are the dreams that steal a small space in my head and my heart surrounded by the rest of the day and the work. Hours are spent on client work I love so much where I'm dreaming of transforming the lives of leaders and their companies into the place they've dreamed of. All the while I'm filling out the boxes with letters and numbers and tracking my progress to the place that looks like work and needs to feel like winning.
Then in comes the fear and frustration. They come in different shapes and sizes and try to curl up in my chair across from this desk to stare me down with ridicule, doubt and loathing. The fear of an uncertain future for children I've been given to raise. The soundbites of evidence that are there to tell me what path they are really on. Words they use, texts they send, foods they eat. All culminating into the roller coaster of parenting. The big ball of crazy that most of us survive with kids that will grow to stare down their own parenting demons and doubts. But what if we're the one that missed a cue that led to teen pregnancy or some illness caused by the take out food of a working mom. What if? What if I miss it? What if I obsess about it and cause it to be something more than it was meant to be and by my worry, I ultimately feed the beast and it eats us for lunch licking it's chops on my lack of faith in the Holy one that put us here to serve. What if it was my overbearing love and desire and intent to do it well that became their demise? What if?
What if the clients don't come back and the sales never happen and the paycheck declines and the retirement fund isn't real and the disappointment moves in and takes up the space where hope and love and light used to be. What if?
Then I speak a small prayer and transfer the worry and the doubt and the fear and the frustration. I go back to inching along on books that need to be written, schools that need to be started, companies that need to be more effective, and the relationships that need to be fueled.
More bills to pay, forms to sign, calls to make, emails to send, dinner to make, clothes to fold, instructions to give.
On any given day.
