It is funny how the achievement of one goal can be eclipsed by the next one. Even if we aspired to it for a while, having it in our grasp can be less satisfying than we expected, if only because we are distracted. 

The other day a friend mentioned how long he had looked forward to being an adult. He longed to be able to make his own decisions, free from homework and parental restrictions. Now that he pays his own bills and puts gas in his own car that lofty dream has lost its luster. 

I remember an aha moment when I was ankle deep in laundry, and behind on dishes. The children around me were building towers, albeit with some skirmishes. I remembered that this was precisely what I had asked God for. A gaggle of kids were mine, and having been given them I had forgotten to live in gratitude. 

There were Christmases when the package under the tree was an embodiment of my express wishes, made back in November to my attentive parents. But by late December my fancies had been carried along by a Saturday morning commercial or the toys at a friend's house, and it was no longer what I wanted. 

The last time I attended a wedding, I smiled to witness the adoration that spilled down the aisle like a river. The couple were as happy as they knew how to be. Then I remembered. That was me once, longing to be John's wife, allowed to amble this life beside him. At what point did that pinnacle of joy become mundane? 

How can God, much less a mother on a budget, satisfy such a moving target? Perhaps the disconnect lays with the receiver. Me.