the million-dollar question

One of the reasons running has been so good to me, other than getting me off my tush and reducing said tush, is the "me" time that I have to think, to pray, to reflect. Sometimes, it's just as simple as thinking about what to make for dinner (particularly if I am already hungry during a run). Other times, I get deep. And lately, this week, I've been getting deep.

I often ask Jason what he would do if he had a million dollars, or if every job paid the same, or if he could do anything in the world, what would it be, etc. He's good most times I ask and won't say "two chicks at once", though that makes me laugh because I love that movie. Anyway, no use asking the question of your truest love if you cannot ask yourself the same question. Up until recently, I was quick to answer even my own self with a default response: well, nursing, of course. And every week I would trudge off to class, excited to be starting my new career and soon be earning a steady income and not have to worry about having the electricity turned off or the phone cut off or whatever. It's true: I am excited about it, and not just for the steady income part. I do love helping people.

Sometime recently - the exact day I cannot pinpoint - I started getting honest with myself. After my first attempt at grad school didn't work and I came home afraid to sing for anyone, I quickly concluded that the Performing Life was not for me. And I was quick to tell other people that, too, and because I have such smooth acting skills, I convinced a lot of people that it was true, including myself. Being in the competitive arena in a musical style not 100% natural to my voice made me extremely unsure of myself, especially when I heard people who were completely at home singing classically. I started hating the experience so much that I told people I was having panic attacks (I wasn't) so I could have a more solid excuse to quit and go home instead of "nah, don't like it, sorry." So I wrote the whole thing off - I wasn't made for it, and it was not for me. Looking back, I can say with certainty that yes, classical singing, while I had moments of "good" and "pretty" in there, was not really my path. And I can also say that I'm fascinated by the human body, and I'm good at this nursing stuff, and I know that it will be a good fit for me.

But about that honesty thing: if you asked me what I would do if I had a million dollars, or if I could do anything at all, do you think I would say nursing?

I didn't think you did.

Jason and I have been struggling with massive life discontent lately. It's made me sit down and really examine myself: am I doing what God wants me to be doing? Am I discontent with circumstances I should be content with (but am not because I am - choose one - separated from God/selfish/lazy/clueless)? Do I want to sing for a bigger audience/congregation because I want to reach more hearts or because I want more people to like me and compliment me?

There have been some really extraordinary people God has dropped into my life: people so encouraging to me, just by their lives alone, that I want to scoop them all up and surround myself with them 24 hours a day in some sort of Encouragement Commune or whatever. (I have not told them about this idea, naturally.) People who have inspired me because they threw aside doubt and fear and just went for it, whatever "it" happened to be for them. Moving to opposite ends of the country and even the world because it was something that would make them happy, truly happy, even though it involved personal risk and sacrifice. So many days, I stare these possibilities in the face and get scared to my core, feeling very much like Marlin from Finding Nemo when he and Dory are in the whale's mouth:

Dory: We gotta go. He said it's time to go now.
Marlin: How do you know, Dory? How do you know nothing bad's going to happen?
Dory: (pause) I don't.

And maybe I'm just getting sick of needing a 100% guarantee before I do anything anymore. Every Sunday when I stop singing, I wish we had more songs to do. I love my time up there, and for the first time, I feel totally confident of the gift God gave me and how He can use it to reach others when I am up there leading worship. I can't ignore that, but at the same time, I have no clue what to do next with it (other than what I am already doing now). So it all begs the question: if it's something I love to do more than anything else on this earth, why oh why am I looking in another direction? I just don't have a good or easy answer for that question. But I also don't want to hit 70, 80 years old, look back on my life, and kick myself for not having gone after what I loved, what God has distinctly wired me for. No, I'm not dropping out of nursing school or abandoning that path, no way. But I cannot stand still in the status quo anymore and expect to feel good about my life.

This is one of the scariest revelations of my short life thus far. It turns everything I built in my head pretty much on its ass and also begs the question: what next? Well, I don't know. But I have to do something with it. I really want to blame it all on stress from nursing school, except that deep down, I have felt this way pretty much ever since I found out I could sing at all, so the stress excuse doesn't hold. Stress might explain why it's just now coming to surface, though.

The few souls in whom I have confided this have told me, "Oh, you should go for it!" but I don't know the first thing to do next, so I'm freaked out. All I can think of right now is to ask God for opened doors, seeing as I am so clueless about all of this. If any of you feel inspired to pray for me, please do. This is all new ground!