The Visionary

When we were first married, Todd’s job put him in contact with a lot of wealthy people. Wealthy. Millions of dollars, multiple homes, next several generations really don’t have to have jobs anymore kind of wealthy. Among these people is title that you really don’t find in the middle and lower classes: the visionary.

The first time Todd told me of his encounter with one of these self-described types, I knew that I had been born the wrong gender in the wrong socio-economic class (not really, but just go with me for a minute). You see, this guy came to Todd with a good idea for Todd’s company. Todd said it sounded interesting, and that idea-man ought to explore it. We still laugh about the response: “Oh, no. I just come up with the ideas. I’m the visionary.”

I want that job. I want to give other people my ideas, and let them do all the hard work.

I have lots of ideas. Non-fiction book ideas? I got ‘em. Blog posts? Tons. Half-written novels? Six at last count. I have plans for an awesome garden and flower beds. I have decorating ideas. Who needs Pinterest when you’ve got castles in the clouds?

But what do I have to show for it? One book, a weedy yard, and a decent high score at Angry Birds.

I am blessed to be in a church with lots of “Titus 2″ women. I admire them and want to be just like them when I grow up. I want to have their joy and wisdom. I want to have their smile lines (rather than the frown lines in the middle of my forehead). I want their ability to laugh at the days to come. (Proverbs 31:25)

I want these things, but I want to draw up the outline and hand the hard work off to an assistant. I don’t want to endure the heartaches, persevere through difficulty. In other words, I want the resurrection without the cross.

I don’t like slogging through the tough middle of a project, and I detest weeding flower beds. While I’m sure it’s pleasant to be handed a finished product, joy comes through perseverance, in the hard places where the end is uncertain. It’s there where the rough edges are smoothed over and refinement is found.

Comments

  1. says

    Speaking from a lady with weeds herself and husband who doesn’t get in the yard much anymore due to his dementia, I hear you laud and clear.

    The only thing I figure is that my sanctification’s journey includes discipline of some sort. I am thankful for authors like you (The Organized Heart) and Mindy Starns Clark (The House That Cleans Itself) for inspiring peace and discipline in my life, one step at a time, over time..

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