by Kathryn Petras
If you’ve ever dressed wrong for the weather, you know the feeling.
You put on the right thing at the wrong time. Too warm or too cold. And so frustration ensues.
I got a jacket in the mail yesterday. One I was positive I wanted. Found just what I was looking for.
But still. Joseph became an orphan. Was lonely and displaced. Passed over and misunderstood. Only to be celebrated in Egypt.
For every chapter of my life, I have watched my dreams rise up, take shape and play out in front of me...with another face in the part I thought was mine.
Until I opened it up.
Frustration may not be a big enough word.
Much less impressive in real life than its grand seat in my imagination. “maybe it will look better on?” I slide my arms through the sleeves to find it fits pretty perfectly. Still no dice. It’s just not right. Not really what I wanted.
It’s a feeling I can easily name. It seems to keep a cyclical appearance in the seasons of my life. Like I’m forever trying on jackets I should look really well in.
Like that kid in the Bible. Joseph was so sure his life would be one way. His Fathers favorite. Believing the dream so deeply, couldn’t keep his big mouth shut.. causing things to suck for a really long time.
I have felt the same. Watching the dreams of others bear fruit, while I rot in prison with a bird bait baker.
You could stop here and remind me, Joseph’s dream eventually came true.
And it did. God seems to be the master of the “never saw that coming” ending.
I was in a play once in grade school. My coveted role went to preachers daughter, because her hair was long and smooth and she looked really well in cardigans. My Fraggle hair got me cast..quite literally as a homeless child who swears in church.
Again in High School, the role I wanted went to someone less prone to go off script. I was cast as one of the delusional sanitarium crazies. One who thought she was beautiful...but in reality was buck toothed and goofy.
Am I painting a picture here?
I guess what has to be reconciled is want.
Maybe I’m not reading for the right roles. Maybe the jackets I’m choosing aren’t suited to my complexion...or my Fraggle hair. Maybe you have to let go of Israel to be a rock star in Egypt.
The underlying point is the path to the dream, may in fact be quite different than we imagine. And probably includes some prison time.
Still, it’s better to be cast by Him. He knows what fits...and at least I’m not the Baker.