I keep trying to know who I am. Now. In this part of life that is leaving me feeling stranded on a dirt road with nary a sign in sight.
Writing helps me process. It often reveals answers or offers a glimpse of possibility. In seeing the words spelled out, black on white, 14-point font, I may see answers, if only for today. But with retirement less than two years away, I want answers for the life ahead.
What will I do? Who will I be? I want to know with certainty, “I’m going to be an artist”. Something – anything.
I grew up in a Christian home with parents who had felt a calling to serve in full-time ministry. In my youth, I thought callings were only for pastors. I didn’t spend time praying that God would reveal specifics to me. Jobs opened up, and while I didn’t realize it until years later, God was always preparing the road ahead for me.
Life continued to unfold, and I followed.
Ten months after the first date with my now husband, Henry, we married. Thirteen months after our wedding, we had our first child. As we celebrated our daughter’s first birthday, I was pregnant with our second child. We hadn’t set out to live life at this breakneck pace, but we kept running.
I hope you’ll join me for the rest of my story at The PerennialGen blog today.