After months of being unsure about what to do with the next in my life, a Facebook post on conversation with an old friend has clarified some things. I know what I’m doing next. Kind of.
Yesterday, my friend Elissa, who I’ve known since wee both were students at what was then Mesa College in our hometown of Grand Junction, posted that she’s thinking of opening a school. After five years of saying no to God’s prodding, she’s saying yes. She called, and we talked about it, and about the possibilities of my joining her in this venture (along with the reasons for the school, which I won’t get into, because that’s her story, not mine), and somehow, we got into a discussion about my returning to school for my Master’s degree.
I have a BA in English, and a few years ago, right after my divorce, I began classes for the graduate program in Early Childhood Education at Portland State University. I enjoyed the classes, but I was very nervous about taking the test required for actual admittance, and my financial aid was shaky. So I quit. (I’ve quit a lot of things in my life; it’s a pattern I’m not proud of, one I’m trying to change.)
I always loved being in school, and I miss it. If you look at my college transcripts, that’s obvious: I studied at three different schools, changed my major a number of times, and took ten years to finally graduate! Then I took courses at two community colleges later! Up until the last four years, I’d spent most of my life in a classroom of some sorts, either as a student or a teacher. No wonder I’ve felt so lost these last few years; I’ve away from my native soil!
With a Master’s degree in ECE, and all my years of teaching experience, I could qualify as a Director of a preschool, which would be pretty nifty. I’ve not made a decision yet what degree to pursue, just that I’m going to do it.It’s at least the beginning of a plan. Taking a step forward in my life, even if it’s a baby step.And oddly enough, I’m not scared at all this time.
God will put me where He wants me to be, doing what He wants me to do. I’ve always believed He had a plan for me, that He was watching over me for some reason, and I’m pretty sure that sitting in this chair watching Golden Girls reruns isn’t it. He kept me safe – well, alive, anyway – through all those seizures, and accidents caused by seizures – car accidents, falls in the shower, tumbles down stairs, all that crap – and I don’t think it was so I could end up sitting around, doing nothing, wishing for a different life, making no impact on the world around me, or even the world within me. He didn’t create me to be this barren landscape.