A Song for the Son

So Strange This Life

Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will. Romans 12:2

I wanted to be a rock star, but I couldn’t sing on key, and as I thought about learning an instrument life played it’s own guitar solo and when it ended I was 35, too old to trick myself into thinking I wasn’t. Now when I see the music video of the guy in the rain, pouring out his heart with tears and raindrops, I think that could have been me, but not really, because my hair would never have styled up that way.

I wanted to be a successful businessman, but I didn't have the capital to get started, and I didn’t really have an idea anyways. While I tried to scrape together the cash and an idea my life mortgaged itself over a 25 year term and suddenly I was 41 and I still had a boss. When he golfs on Fridays I work harder than I normally do and I don’t know why. When I hear the bleep bloop of his car alarm and see the leather seats I wonder if he is less likely to give rides to people for fear of them spilling something.

I wanted to be a movie star, but I didn’t have the courage to stand on stage. As I thought about memorizing lines and doing an audition life rambled on with it’s own soliloquy and when it ended I was 54, my skin too old for stage makeup, and my eyes too sensitive to the lights. Now when I see the gold statue and the fumbled acceptance speech I wonder if that had been me, if I would have remembered to thank my mom.

I wanted to play in the National Hockey League, but when I skated my ankles tilted inwards, and I could never learn to skate with my head up, so it was either get hit, or lose the puck. As I thought about my next slap shot I accidentally tripped someone, and while I sat in the penalty box my life had a power play and when it was finally over I was 61, and I struggled to get the little door open to get back on the ice. When the Stanley Cup comes to town in the summer I wonder if all the people who get a chance to touch it find themselves whole again.

I wanted to be a bestselling author, but when I had an idea it would get stuck in my head and when I tried to write it on paper it would come out all mumbled and some of the words didn’t fit together. As I thought about writing, the words blurred and by the time I realized I really did need reading glasses I was 72, and though I might be wise all the wisdom was stilled cellared and I wondered if anyone would ever come by the old age home for a glass.

What I wanted. As I thought about the things I had wanted my regret for not having received was calmly edged aside by memories of the things I had received, and as I looked back I was reminded of the beautiful life that I had been given, and there alongside my life I saw my will and His will, and which of the two had been perfect.