I originally intended to share more writing from my camping trip but then this happened…
What am I doing?
How did I get to this point?
Is it too late to turn back?
These are just some of the dozens of questions I’ve been asking myself as I’ve transitioned into my third year in nursing school. Being bombarded with doubt from all angles as to whether this was the right career choice certainly doesn’t make the reasoning process any easier. If you’ve ever told me that you think I picked the wrong job or that I should have pursued writing, don’t fret; I live for those encouraging comments. In part, they fuel the utter delight I take in putting pen to paper or updating this blog. They make me think that maybe, just maybe, writing could one day become for me something more than Pie On The Windowsill. Maybe, one day, I could have the talent to do more than write my thoughts, feelings, and passions onto pages that only I ever see. Unfortunately, these are all grave maybes and such encouragement from those around me certainly raises all of the doubt that I usually keep pushed far back from the surface.
Potential is such a horrid word isn’t it? Potential is not tangible to me. Potential is a word I’ve used many a time to describe the amateur, the wannabe, the person that has a skill but not the means to achieve greatness. Perhaps, the word potential doesn’t have such a negative connotation in other peoples’ minds. Perhaps it entails promise and even, probability, for some. For me, potential was not enough. So even though I long, with nearly all of my heart, to actualize all of this so-called potential, there is too sizable a part of me that remains afraid. Fear, more than anything, pushed me into nursing school – not because it was the easy thing to do (‘cause Lord knows, nursing school is not for the faint of heart!). I was afraid to pursue something that had no assurance to it. I knew, without a doubt, that nursing school would challenge me but I also knew that I had only four years before I could reap the harvest of such a challenging investment. Of course, anything is possible. God can turn your world upside down in an instant and I would do well to remember that. That said, I have to believe in this dream He has planted in my heart. I have to believe that everything He has worked for good in my life is worthwhile. And it is. Oh, it most assuredly is.
As I sit here typing, I am beginning to realize something very important. God knows how deeply I love to write. He graciously gave me all of that horrid potential and planted a dream in my heart. This dream has eaten away at the security I’ve felt in knowing I will be a registered nurse in a mere two years. It has loomed ominously over my head in the most glorious and exciting way, placing doubt after doubt in my tired brain. I’ve pleaded with God to show me that this path He put me on was, in fact, the path He would have me on. Was it just my voice I heard that summer after graduation? Was it pure luck that the call of acceptance came a week before classes began? This dream He gave me is more powerful than anything else in my life, save for one.solitary.thing: children.
If there ever was an ultimate game changer for me, it would be children. There is nothing I yearn for more than my own family. I wish I could be a writer, but I ache to be a mom. I was made to be a mother. I don’t know when. I don’t know how. But I know that since I understood what the word purpose meant, I knew motherhood was mine (and yes, the previous two sentences are straight from The Little Mermaid…). God knows this too. He graciously gave me this staggering desire and perhaps, everything else is just relative to that. I delight in the purpose He puts in all of our hearts – to love Jesus and to love His children but, as humans in an earthly world, we have abilities that allow us to go beyond that calling. Maybe, nursing school is a means to this dream. Nursing is a weighty responsibility but a means to an end, nevertheless. It’s a way to provide and care for a family, should He bless me with one. When I step back and look at both the wonderful and suitable career the Lord is enabling me to pursue and the astoundingly good and handsome young man He has given me, my heart is full. I can’t help but become giddy because everything I’ve ever wanted more than to write is being given unto me.
This thought brings me comfort. It rings true in my heart and I am at peace once again. I’ve no doubt that it would take years before writing brought me anything other than joy. I am not concerned with success for the sake of being successful, but rather, for the sake of providing for those I love. Both dreams are not necessarily conducive to one another and if they are, I doubt that attempting them at the same time is wise. I believe God is a God of surprises. He is a marvelous mystery and who knows… He could bless me beyond my wildest dreams, obliterating the cynical picture I fear I’ve painted. I don’t know what comes next with my writing. Doors will be opened and shut in my face before I discover what will become of this passion.
So, here I am. Blogging. Journaling. Experimenting. And that’s where I’ll stay until the time is right. Until the fear of failure has faded enough to attempt the improbable or until the dreams of a young woman become the wiser ways of a seasoned and learned human being who is ready to step forward in passion once again (i.e. until I get old and brave and stuff.. ha). God knows what He’s doing. I will take delight in the Lord, and He will give me the desires of my heart (Ps. 37:4). The best part is, He knows better about the desires of my heart than I ever could. That has to be enough for now.