What do you want to be when you grow up? We all heard that question over and over from the time we could talk.
The problem with the question is that we’re led to believe there’s only one answer. I thought I’d only want to be a writer. A writer of books and only books. Book writers are authors, and authors were something special. I clamored for that goal. I had no idea how constraining that box became as I restrained God’s plan for me. The harder I tried to fit into the little box, the more uncomfortable the size and shape. It squished and squeezed all the more. Muse makes me laugh as he tries to squish into the Christmas wrapping paper box every single year. No matter how hard he tries, he’s somehow perched on top.
To achieve one great thing, I thought, something of significance to make a mark on the world. Something unforgettable. I wanted to leave a library of books behind as my valuable contribution. Wisdom shows me something else now. Living a valuable life isn’t about spectacular achievements or a special title other people admire.
I became a wife, mother, and grandmother. I flew as a flight attendant, traveled widely, ran a travel agency, sold radio and print, ran youth groups, led weight loss groups, co-owned a heating company, volunteered in writing groups and with non-profits, graduated as a professional genealogist, and took on an international genealogy trade school. I’ve said goodbye to people I love. Some in death and some to time and place. Memories of a shared moment, a conversation, or an expression.
Some jobs I’ve done to provide for my children and some I really loved like the airlines. Each experience pointed me in the next direction and built lessons along the way to use in my writing. Who knew these experiences would also shape the editing and curriculum for the genealogy school?.
What I didn’t realize? How varied my writing would become. At first, I wrote in my journal, and that led to articles. Poetry led to greeting cards. Then short stories led to books, and books led to screenplays. I thought I’d achieved the one great thing—I was an author. But, really, I was perched on top of a wrapping paper box, too. I’m a writer. A writer who writes in a variety of formats to communicate with others. Once I realized my joy in writing was more expansive, I quit trying to squish into the idea from my youth.
Dreams expand. Writing isn’t just for articles or books. The work we do isn’t just for pay no matter how low or high. Who we become and what we do with those experiences are for God’s glory. No box with a specific endgame job title ever fit me well. I’ve had many titles over my lifetime, and if history proves out, I’ll have a few more.
I’ve finally learned the answer to the question, what do I want to be when I grow up? Me. The God-created me. I appreciate that God knew all along I would not be content with a one-box goal. He made my curiousness. He created my desire to learn. He set in motion intensely complicated and difficult challenges to grow my faith, confidence, and reliance on Him. He knew the path I’d walk because He set it out for me. A path that didn’t look at all like my vision. I thought it should go differently. I’m grateful my journey has had so many twists and turns. God has given me the mission of living a valuable life in every circumstance even when I can’t see it or the journey looks too scary. The box I thought I wanted was way too small for God’s plan. I finally learned that living a valuable life means I will go where He leads me.
What box have you tried to put yourself or God in?
