When I Was Five

When children are five there are so many things about them that just boggle adult minds. The way they are so ignorant to the way the world really works, and have such simple solutions to complex problems. They're so innocent and understand nothing of evil or of wrong motive. They only know what they see at home, on their television, and in their preschool class. They have such impressionable minds and are so trusting to those who are kind, yet at the same time they can sense when someone has ill intentions as if it were a sixth sense. A five year old is probably the pinnacle of human innocence colliding with human potential and intelligence. A five year old reasons like an adult, but because they do not know everything an adult knows they reason within the limited scope of their knowledge. Just talking about this makes me long to be a five year old again, maybe it's nostalgia, or maybe it's because I was being developed into a precocious child. Whatever the reason, there's one thing I don't regret doing at that age that was something I couldn't fully understand being as young as I was.

For whatever reason, I always asked my mom who I was going to marry. I asked her that question over and over, completely unaware of how complex of a question it was that I was asking. She would always tell me to pray for my future wife because only God knew who that was. Over the years I have kept that up sporadically, more so in these past few years than in my childhood, but all the same I didn't completely abandon the practice. When I think about it now I can't imagine what prompted me to even ask about my future wife except for the simple fact that perhaps God had given me, from such a young age, the desire to be a husband. That may seem far fetched to some of you who read this, but God talks about knitting us together in our mother's womb in Psalm 139 and so if then He knits us together, would that not also include our hopes, dreams, and aspirations?

When I was in 8th grade, or 15 years of age, I began to keep a journal to my future wife. I'm not sure why, but before this journal I have never been able to keep one. I had tried to keep journals/diaries, but in the end they would be forgotten and left behind for me discover years later and end up in the garbage. This one was different however, and I've been keeping it for almost four years now. When I started it, I wasn't sure what to write. I wrote all kinds of crazy things that I don't even want to repeat because it'll only make me want to burn that journal more. I'm a lengthy writer, and I eventually filled up one, then two, and today I'm on volume six of my journal to future wife. This one will take longer to fill, since it has more pages and I don't write as often or as much as I used to. What I've written in it has drastically changed. I used to talk about what I want in life, but now I talk about what I have in life and thank God for the blessings He has given me.

My hope is that when my future wife finishes reading the entire collection she'll see where I've come from and understand how much I grew over the years. If you don't know what I mean, I'll paint you a picture... I was so immature when I first started writing in the journal to my future wife that now I have to restrain myself from burning it because it is so embarrassing to think that I'm going to let someone who is stuck with me for the rest of her days read that horrible mess of childish writings. Anyway, so I've been writing in this, and although I do still pray for my future wife, I spend more time writing. I'm not sure if it's a bad thing that I spend more time writing to her than I do praying for her, but honestly there is only so much I can say and even then I can't pray in tongues indefinitely.

Well, that's pretty much all I have to say on the subject matter. This and other similar topics have been on my mind and I needed to kind of vent some of it, so I thought a blog entry would be fitting.

Until next time,
De Facto

P.S. - Here's a little graphic I composed with a picture, text, and icon sticker.