Soon we are too weary of wrestling with our everyday existence to entertain grand visions of destiny. The mundane, agonizing details of life build and build like bricks. The edges tatter, the thread grows bare, and sometimes the fabric falls away completely. But some of those dreams, those hopes of destiny, are from God.Īs we grow older, some of those dreams begin to fade, washed in pain, cynicism and failure. Some of those dreams are your own, it’s true. You know you have a destiny, a purpose in this life. You know, though, that the story will be great. The story is whatever you want it to be, and you’re still in the opening pages of your great novel. Maybe you’ll be the first human being on Mars, or the doctor who cures breast cancer. Later, the fantasies fade, but the dreams become more focused.
In the glory of youth, you and your friends are dread pirates, widely adored pop stars, superstar athletes, gallant knights, or a queen whose rule is just and kind. When you’re very young, you could be a cowboy or a ballerina.
You’ve just cracked the cover, the pages are white and clean, and you absolutely know there’s a grand story ahead. When you’re young, the life ahead of you is a pristine, never opened book. The Law makes rebels of people who want to love and be loved.
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