I said I’d show up.
And here I am.
It’s late. I meant to write earlier today, but I didn’t. I ran out of time, and now I am thinking about all the excuses I can use to get myself out of writing today.
But I am not going to do that. It’s only day 2. I am not going to give up that easily.
Not like I did when I was in labor with Noelle. The pitocin had been on for not even 5 minutes, and I was crying for the epidural. I still wonder if there is a wall in that hospital where a picture of me hangs – underneath it, a plaque that reads, “Record holder for least amount of time in labor before wanting the epidural.”
In all aspects of my life, I like to have a plan. When I was a little girl, I planned my entire wedding out of the special bridal edition of the JCPenney catalog. I knew what color my bridesmaids dresses were going to be (dusty peach) and what item number they were for easy ordering (J47). It made me feel good to plan. At an early age, I wanted that control.
Because of this, it is difficult for me to adjust my sails when the wind changes. I committed to being a teacher for the rest of my life. I was going to be one of those teachers they would honor and recognize at a 5 hour retirement ceremony with hoards of former students coming back to tell me how I influenced their lives. I could see my entire career standing freshly beyond the threshold of my college graduation.
So when I felt it in my heart to walk away from my teaching career after only 6 years of full-time elementary teaching and 3 years of part-time preschool teaching, you can imagine the internal turmoil. I emptied my classroom without a retirement party, or any party for that matter. I see former students at the grocery store, and some of them don’t even recognize me.
My life doesn’t look exactly like I thought it would, and I am learning to be alright with that.
My wedding dress also looked nothing like the pretty little number I circled in the 1993 JCPenney catalog, praise Jesus.
It’s ok to not know what the end may look like before you even begin.
When I sat down to write this evening, I didn’t know what I was going to write about, how I was going to start, or how it was going to end — and as uncomfortable as that makes me, I am learning to push through that discomfort. I truly believe that is where we grow.
The way your skin crawls when something feels awkward or uncertain? You’re growing. The way your heart thumps and your mind races when you start something new? You’re growing. The way your stomach growls and your hands tremble? You’re just hungry. You’re hungry and you need to eat. You can’t grow on an empty stomach.
Plan. Adjust. Grow. Repeat.
