Thinking on Target

Tonight was so blissfully warm, and I hopped in my car, rolled down the windows, and started flipping through the radio stations for some good driving tunes. Where was I going? Nowhere special, just on a short warm-evening pleasure cruise, and I ended up at Target. Now, I had nothing to get there, just lots of things to look at, but there is just something about an upbeat, warm night-time Target trip that makes me feel like I am on vacation. As I meandered through the various sections I inevitably always check out (Issac Mizrahi clothes, sale endcaps in housewares, the trail mix section, seasonal), I sifted through a mountain of Target-related memories that were as warm as the weather is now.

And those memories began to make my mood droop a bit. I felt twinges of melancholy. And even though I was delighted to discover that there was a sale on all varieties of trail mix, that was not quite enough to perk me up entirely. Here's why:

My memories of "Target runs" usually involve getting ready for something. Like the time Emily and I filled 2 shopping carts with slip and slides, pools, pillows and sunscreen for Camp OUTT, and then pulled the carts over to the Ladies' clothes to look for shorts and t-shirts for ourselves. Or the time Christen Taylor and I raided the little boy's section, trying on camo-shorts and bright t-shirts so we could be cool like Mandy at Camp OUTT. Or when Josh and I made a Target run to get what we needed for the CEF trip.

I love getting ready for things.

It is not exciting to live day to day, sharing a few laughs, smiling, greeting, greeting, greeting and shuffling a few papers, with hardly any end in sight. I do so love to be getting ready for something, even if it is nothing big, like a party for my 1st and 2nd graders. I used to constantly be getting ready for stuff, almost to the point where I didn't really know how to do normal life. Special events, clubs, classes, teen activities, etc., kept me on the go, and always picking up some stuff that I needed.

So now, with the weather warming up, I am dealing with the fact that it looks like I will be doing exactly what I am doing now, all summer. Maybe grown-ups are supposed to be okay with that. I'm not. My heart was becoming so heavy, that when I sat down to pray tonight, I just had to discuss that burden with the Lord. I wanted Him to know how much I wished I was preparing to run Camp OUTT again, or go with the teens to camp in New York. As I was sharing these feelings with Him, it seemed quite clear to me that He wished for me to simply let my days alone, to release those precious summer days to Him, and trust that He would have me spend them exactly as He wished. The summer drifted from my mind like grains of sand through open hands. I then began to think about this weekend, and the plans I had for that, but He urged me gently, to let that go, too. Unknowingly, my mind moved to tomorrow, and how I hoped it might be spent, but "take no thought for the morrow" came steadily to mind, erasing that last hope for self-fulfillment.

Are my days mine? No indeed.