Trust. Jump. Live. Quit

It's interesting that you can read something ten times but not have a strong reaction until the eleventh time.  Today was one of those days.  

Ok, to be fair, I had only read it once, but still.  Today, I felt as thought I had been slapped upside the head.

Here are the paragraphs:

"We all have capabilities.  For example, I'm a lawyer by training and have loads of states I can practice law in.  But just because I"m able to be a lawyer doesn't mean that I'm made to be a lawyer.  We don't need to do what we're merely capable of doing.  The trick is to figure out what we were made to do and then make some chnages to keep current with whom we've become.  We're all constantly changing.  We're new creations.  It's supposed to be this way.  Don't resist the change.  Go with it.  Don't be limited by what you excel at. Ask God to show you what the newest version of you was made to do.

Kids who are pressure too much to fit into a box that doesn't fit who they are turning into will let you know about it.  Many adults don't, though.  We tolerate jobs no longer meant for us.  The truth is, too many of us are a job of two behind what we've turned into.  You may have picked your career path because it's something you were competent at in college, but it's not you anymore" (Goff).

That blue part?  I think I can still see the handprint inside my head.  

In Spring 1990, I was about a month away from getting married.  I was also at the end of what collegians have dubbed "generals."  At the end of that quarter (we were still on the quarter system), I had to declare a major, or I would start paying for classes and credits that could potentially be "extra," as in extra expense because they could potentially not count toward a major. . .that is, whenever I decided on what that was.  

In short, I had to choose a major.  And I had to choose NOW. 

At that time, I considered what I was good at and interested in.  After some mulling, I narrowed it down to reading, writing, and speaking (as in, public speaking).  An English major?  Yeah, but as a soon-to-be newlywed about to embark on a new, and definitely poor, life, I reminded myself that we had to pay the bills too.  So, I modifed the English major to English Education.  

As I like to tell my students, and anybody else who wants to listen, I became a teacher by default.  

When I listen to my colleagues, most of them regale me with stories from their youth - lining up their dolls and/or siblings and "playing school."  They were always the teachers, of course.  Long story short, most of them knew that they wanted to be a teacher from a very young age.  

I did not.  I never played school. I played "store manager" or "business owner" or "Charlie's Angels."  Ok, that last one wasn't necessarily career-related, but still.  Being a teacher was never on my radar.  

And yet, I became one.  A pretty darn good one, I believe - the result of hard work, and many many long hours in the evenings and on weekends and over summers to become better at it, realistically striving to be the best version I could be.  My only competition was myself.  Perfection was the desired outcome, and as we know, perfection is unattainable, and worse, teaching is fickle, and often brutal.  And yet for 28 years, this has been my life.  

If I am honest with myself, I think that every year since I transferred to Willmar, I have questioned whether or not I should stay in this occupation.  Like I said, this job is brutal.  The public, mostly parents and fellow colleagues, are very judgmental and critical. Likewise, if kids don't like something, whether it's you, an assignment, or the way you do things, they are very blunt in telling you.  Additionally, there is no recognition for a job well done. Ironically, when a teacher goes the extra mile, s/he quickly learns that the extra effort is now and expectation, and so it goes.

And yet, it would be unfair to say that I have hated this job.  I haven't.  In the beginning, I loved everything about it. A common denominator over the past 28 years is that the kids are the saving grace of this job.  I have stayed this long only because of the kids.  I have had the privilege to meet, help and encourage some amazing people along the way. If I have been able to leave a positive lasting impression on them, I am humbled and grateful. For whatever the reason, the kids who are the most downtrodden, struggling and defeated are the most special to me.  If it wasn't for the kids, I would have throw in the towel long ago.  

Even though teaching has been extraordinarily difficult this year due to Covid, distance-learning, etc, I have felt a shift.  A noticeable shift.  Over the last five years, I have slowly shifted off-center, and now, it's undeniable.  I am seriously, seriously considering leaving the profession of teaching.

And then, I read  those two paragraphs this morning.

If many people are a job or two behind who they've turned into, then I am behind by at least ten.  The person I was at 22 is virtually unrecognizable to the 50 year old I now am.  The growth, the life experiences, the values, the priorities, the confidence level. . .EVERYTHING is different. Completely different.  

As Bob says, "You may have picked your career path because it's something you were competent at in college (or in my case, were desperate enough to grab in college), but it's not you anymore.  

It's true.  Teaching is not me anymore.  It's time for me to take what I've learned and grown and move on to a new place.  What is that place?

It could be in the mental health field.  The experiences I have endured over the last five have taught me a lot about mental health and how to live and walk alongside someone who is struggling mentally.  Covid has made people distraught - desperately distraught.  As a result, I predict that this is a field which will explode.  I have the wisdom and experience (both as a mom and a teacher) to continue serving (which is important to me). Rather than focus on a large group (classes full of students), I could now focus on one-on-one relationships. I love problem-solving, and this is a field in which I would be able to problem-solve to my heart's delight. 

One thing I have learned about myself and actually recognized through a podcast today (another slap upside the head) is that creativity is absolutely essential to me. If I trace the extra-curricular pursuits of my life (also called hobbies to some), they have always been creative. I have flitted (and still flit) from one creative project to another.  I am only happy when my hands and mind are busy and challenged.  If I don't know something, I find out.  I challenge myself to learn something new, to try.  I am unafraid of unknown tasks.  Thus, creativity will be a consideration for whatever I do next.  

All I know is that teaching is not it anymore.  It's just not.  But there is an opinion I value more than my own feelings, and it is God's.  I'm not making a move unless He directs it.  

And it seems as though He has:

My verse this week (I am memorizing Scripture this year) is 2 Timothy 1:7 - "For God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, of love, and of self-discipline."

On Monday, my virtue card was Faith. It says "Faith is the wind in the sails of our dreams.  It gives us the strength to go on, not succumbing to doubt, fear, or hopelessness.  As we move forward, we are guided to the right path without having to make it happen." 

Monday's devotion in Streams in the Desert said: "The world is full of hurting and comfortless hearts.  But before you will be competent for this lofty ministry, you must be trained.  And your training is extremely costly, for to make it complete, you too must endure the same afflictions that are wriging countless hearts of tears and blood.  Consequently, your own life becomes the hospital ward where you are taught the divine art of comfort.  You will be wounded so that in the binding up of your wounds by the Great Physician, you may learn how to render first aid to the wounded everywhere. . .Over the next ten years, you will find many others afflicted in the same way.  You will tell them how you suffered and were comforted." 

Another devotional on Monday said, "Be present in the moment. . .Don't worry about what may end or may not happen; stick by Jesus and trust He will work it all out in the end. . .No one is remembered for what they just planned to do. . .Sacrifice and commitment always travel with love and action." 

I don't know about you, but it kind of sounds to me as though God is leveling with me in a pretty straight forward way.  

I ask myself, If money wasn't an issue, would I stay or go?  The answer is swift and sure.  I would walk away in a heartbeat. 

I would walk away in a heartbeat.

So, basically, I am telling God, "Look, it sounds good, but I just don't think you will cover all my bases.  I feel like you will leave me hanging, so I need to stay so we have enough money to live." 

My faith is important to me.  I write about it, I talk about it, I think about it, and I try to live my life as a reflection of it.

But just not this one thing.  Money.  

Such arrogance.  I apparently think that I can run my life better than God, the Creator of the Universe, the Alpha and Omega of all existence, the Omniscient, Omnipresent One, the All-Powerful Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Wonderful Counselor, Prince of Peace.

I can't believe I even wrote that paragraph.  What a fraud.  Yes, Missy B.  I am calling you out.  You big hypocrite.  Put your faith in action.  Trust and OBEY, for there's no other way to be happy in Jesus.  But to trust and obey.  

While I am so busy trying to control everything again (the foundation of ALL my problems), I'm losing sight of the fact that if this is truly ordained, whatever is on the other side is so much BETTER than anything I could ever imagine.  God only wants good for me.  He sets up the circumstances by which I find my JOY in living in Him.  What am I potentially missing out on by clinging to the safe but substandard, the familiar but frustrating, the life-sustaining but life-draining? 

All this reminds me of the time I was in 6th or 7th grade.  My mom had made my brother and me take swimming lessons since we were little (due to the fact that she and Dad couldn't swim, and they were both terrified of the water). I had passed through the ranks and was now taking Junior Lifesaving.

In order to get the coveted "Pass," which would earn us a post-swimming lesson ice cream cone, I had to jump off the high dive, something I was terrified to do.  The low dive? No problem.  The high dive? No. I had done it once before, and I had been terrified of the feeling of nothing under my feet.  A step off the board is a 12 foot free fall. Logically, I knew that it was no big deal.  Unfortunately, the pulsing, deafening whoosh of my heartbeats was blocking the message from my brain to my extremities.  I remember standing on the board for an uncomfortably long period of time.  The longer I stood there, the more terrified I became.  Finally, my swimming instructor (my pre-teen crush) started climbing the ladder, threatening to push me off the board.  And so I jumped.  And I lived. 

Make your faith bigger than your fears.  There is no one threatening to push me off the board.  I have to decide for myself if I am ready to jump.

Trust. Jump. Live. Quit.