Planning: Day 1

Three years ago, I took aim at the can that was my future and gave it a good, swift kick down the road. I could see it as I moseyed down the path. It was always there waiting for me, and in about six weeks, I’m going to reach it again. This leaves me with options.

I could, in theory, stay where I am. I have the best of jobs, where I get to work with kids and travel and have a grand old time while still educating and giving back to the state that’s given me a good plenty of opportunities. I could stick it out here for another year, or two, and save up some money (barring any other unforeseen tooth removal situations) and survey the state of the can when I reach it again, farther on down the road. 

But staying isn’t really an option. I mean, it is. It’s viable. But I can’t stay here indefinitely. Chapel Hill is wonderful and I’ll always be thankful for the experiences it’s given me, but there’s a whole world out there. There’s an entire planet of places outside of my state and I want to see what it’s like to be there. Besides, staying here for more than another year is going to feel like putting down roots and I’m not ready for roots yet. Soon, but not yet. I’ve got wanderlust in me still.

So that begs the question, “What next?”, in response to which I laugh loudly and reach for a glass of something strong because I have no idea how to answer that question. In seventh grade, I wanted to be an astronaut. In eighth grade, I wanted to be a journalist. When I walked into college, I wanted to be an astrophysicist. When I walked out of college, I wanted to be employed. Along the way, I decided definitely that I was for sure going to seminary and I was going to be a pastor and that was what my life would be. Farther on down the way, I decided to not decide on that just yet. Open-ended life, right? Kick the can down the road. Cross that bridge when you come to it. 

And I’m capable. I might not meet all the requirements for any job ever, but I can learn and I’m wiling to work. I have the awesome privilege and responsibility of being able to make something out of myself. I’m not  yet hindered by circumstance or ability. I can do many things. I just have to decide what to be and go be it. Take a breath, take a step, take a chance. Take my time. 

If it sounds like I’m talking myself into something, that’s because I am. The idea of “What next?” is a gigantic ocean that you have to dive into and swim around in. It’s got currents that push you and doldrums where it leaves you and a depth that is unfathomable. In my soul, I’m beyond excited to jump in. In my mind, I’m a little less sure. So this is the dance we do, where we wade into the water, swim out to the sandbar, and mumble confident quotes before closing our eyes, breathing in deeply, and taking the plunge.

Six weeks is a good amount to time to ponder and plan. I process life in writing, so that’s what I’ll do with this, and I’ll take you with me if you want. I’m thinking we’ll see a week of thinking about purpose and what that even means, a week of LSAT consequences, a week of hanging out with Jesus, a week in the life of an educator, a week of unrestricted dreaming, and last of all, a week of deciding. That will drop me off at the second week in September, right by my can, when the applications are all online and the bustle of the school year is ripe for beginning new things. This is a plan I can handle.

One of the things life has given me in the past few years is a substantial iTunes library of music that I love, so each day gets its own song, with its own thoughts and feelings about life and things. Today’s is Take Up Your Spade by Sara Watkins. 

I’ve never really built anything big or tried to grow anything that didn’t start out its life inside a pot, so I don’t know what you do after you take up your spade and break ground. But I guess that’s what tomorrow is for.