Growing up, I always thought I knew exactly what I wanted to be. I could see the road that would lead to success, and I had my bags packed, ready to follow it.
My plan was to become a nurse. For five years, I planned to go to North Park and go to nursing school. After graduation, I would go into the labor and delivery section of the hospital where I would get to hold the tiny little babies all day long.
I had a major. I had a job. I had a plan.
So you can probably imagine my shock when half way through my first semester, I realized maybe that wasn't what I wanted to be anymore. Of course, losing the plan meant existing without one.
I questioned often why the switch? Why did I not just soldier on with the plan?
Had I followed through with nursing, I would be a nurse right now. I wouldn't still have to ask, what next? I wouldn't still be lying in the middle of the road unsure of which direction to take.
Well, yesterday at the park I was hit with a reality check. A 60-year-old Polish nanny asked me "why so young to be a nanny? Go make money."
To which I responded, "well I am a nanny, but really I am a writer." It was an odd response. And it felt good to test it out on a stranger who didn't speak great English. But I kind of, sort of really liked it. I liked the sound of calling myself a writer--aloud--to someone I don't know.
To which I responded, "well I am a nanny, but really I am a writer." It was an odd response. And it felt good to test it out on a stranger who didn't speak great English. But I kind of, sort of really liked it. I liked the sound of calling myself a writer--aloud--to someone I don't know.
And then I got to thinking about my lost plan. It was like I had made a plan, but God didn't agree. He had other things planned for me. Other things that maybe would never happen had I not followed my initial plan in the first place.
I had always thought maybe I gave up on becoming a nurse because I was lazy, but I don't think so anymore. I think my heart was just simply not in it enough to do what it took to become one.
Each day, I feel my whole being calling out to write a few words down. I know that to become a real writer will mean putting myself out there, opening myself up for criticism (which I suck at), and allowing for vulnerability. It will involve a willingness to improve my grammar and increase my vocabulary. And it won't be as convenient as blogging during naptime.
But at the same time, I already am a writer. To be a writer doesn't mean that you have taken expensive courses or have been published. It means that you show up each day to write. It means you form words into sentences and those sentences into thoughts and those thoughts into something worth reading.
Had I followed my plan, maybe I would be a nurse--making money, but I probably wouldn't be writing a novel. I might have lost that whole part of me.
I am just fortunate that God has a plan for me, even if I don't know what it is yet.
xoxo
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