WHO, ME? . . .

The other night at care group, the question was posed: when you were a child, what were your dreams? What did you want to be?

I am and always have been a nerd. And so I said, "I wanted to write books." (Now, this is not to the exclusion of other things. I, at different times throughout my childhood and teenage years, also wanted to be a surgeon, a Legal Aid lawyer, an astronaut, a high school foreign language or English literature teacher, a firefighter, the United States ambassador to the United Nations, and a CIA spy. Actually, I suppose there's no way for anyone to know if I AM a CIA spy right now or not. That's for me to know and you to ... not find out.)

Then Ranger Jay looked deeply into my soul and asked, "wanted?"

I had to correct myself. I still want to write books. I don't know how this is going to happen, or when. But it surely must. I mean, I can't carry this dream around for twenty-five years and have it not come to fruition, can I?