I have an itch....

...and I really wanna scratch it.

My friend, Heather, showed me this video a few months ago. Little did I know a few months later I would watch it on replay for hours on end with goosebumps on my arms and a fire burning in my chest. 

Just watch it. You are excused from watching the video on my last post. But this one. You must.Who knows? A couple months from now you might have the same fire roaring in you, screaming at you to DO something. 

I sit at work dreaming of a far off land. Where my days aren't scripted by hours at my desk. Where I don't feel like a hamster on one of those wheels, running fast, getting nowhere. Wake up, go to work, go home, eat, sleep and do it all again.

I dream of a day when Owen wears sweater vests (I don't know why sweater vests, that's just what he's wearing in my dream)  and teaches college kids something. Anything really. And plays with kids in his free time. Where he laughs and loves what he does. Where he uses his hands and gets muddy. Where He talks about Jesus and learns and explores and creates and builds and gets to sleep at a decent hour.  

A day when I can teach the girls computers again, or English, or the Bible. I dream of a day when I wipe snotty noses, braid hair, cut out shapes from construction paper and give out hugs as popular as free candy.

Where today is a distant cousin to the day before and a stranger to the day after.

Where the kids WANT to learn because it is a luxury, not a chore. They don't feel the desire to disrespect you or rebel against anyone to avoid being a cookie cutter teenager. Instead, they love you for what you have to give them.They soak up every word you say. You see it in their eyes. Their own fire. To learn more about anything that anyone wants to teach them. English. Computers. Music. Hopscotch. Jesus.

I haven't let myself think of things I would be leaving behind. Or the hole in my heart for all the things here that fit in it. Or how we would make money. Or how we would want to raise our kids. I'm in the honeymoon stage with these thoughts and I only have the good butteflies.  

I can hardly contain myself thinking about the endless possiblities. There are so many people in this world that I can look at and admire and say "I wish I could do something like that". But I CAN do something like that. It just takes action steps. If my limbs had a mind of their own they would already be walking to that place that I dream of.

I don't know where it is.

Nor do I care.

I just have a crazy desire

to scratch this itch.