Confession time: I do not have a white picket fence. I never have had one, and it is possible that I never will. Truthfully, I have nothing against white picket fences - they're actually kind of cute - but there was a time in my life when living behind a white picket fence sounded like a death sentence.
You see, in my youth, I knew without a doubt that I was destined for something great. The problem was I could never figure out what shape "great" ought to take. Thoughts of teaching English, cuddling orphans, feeding the physically and spiritually hungry, traipsing through jungles, etc. swam through my mind. I even thought of starting Bible quizzing teams in Europe. There were so many options, and as long as I didn't have to eat monkeys or live without running water, I was game for whatever amazing path God wanted me to blaze. Whatever He had in store for me, it couldn't possibly be living the typical American lifestyle. You know what I'm talking about.... Two children, a golden retriever, a minivan, kissing your husband good-bye in the morning and looking forward to him coming up a tricycle strewn path to the front door in the evening. And that's where the white picket fence comes into the story, because of course, your pretty little house in a cute little neighborhood sits behind a darling white picket fence.
It happened so slowly that I didn't realize it was happening at all, but one warm, sunny day I found myself looking at white picket fencing. Geoff and I had talked about putting up a white picket fence for some time, to keep our two children from running into the main road in front of our pretty little house. It was years ago, but I remember opening the door of our car (I don't think we had our minivan yet, but we were probably talking about getting one soon), thinking, "Wow, this is the white picket lifestyle I swore never to lead. Huh."
I think it's safe to say that since then, we've gone beyond the white picket lifestyle. Our brood has increased to four, for one thing. We homeschool our children, which like having four children, is not exactly typical. And if you know us at all, well... I often think we aren't exactly normal, though I'm not sure anyone really is - even those who do have two kids, a minivan, and a golden retriever. In any case, I'm pretty sure we've left my image of the typical American family sputtering in the dust.
But, and here at long last I am getting to the point of this whole rambling post: I've learned something about this lifestyle of being a middle class wife and mother, rather than a woman on a mission to heal the whole world. I've learned - I'm still learning, actually - that beyond that white picket fence, or beyond a little brick wall, or up a cracked sidewalk, or whatever path may lead to any home in any part of the world, including some small town in the USA, exists a whole wide world, just waiting to be explored and appreciated. I have watched battles rage and cultures clash. I have witnessed joy erupt with volcanic force and tenderness flow like a gentle brook. I might be going too far to say that all the raw emotion of humanity exists in a child's heart, but I don't think it would be that much of a stretch to say so. Anyhow, whatever I might say, and whether I would be correct or not, there IS a whole wide world on this side of the figurative picket fence - as full, exciting, and important as the world on the other side of the fence. And so, in writing this blog (and my husband would probably agree that this blogging thing pushes me a little more toward "typical" than I might like to be), I invite you to glimpse life beyond the white picket fence. The white picket fence that we never bought.
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