This is the longest blog entry I have ever written. It gets its own page.
About a year and a half ago I told a friend that I could sense that the next chapter of my life was right around the corner. I had been on the same page long enough and I could sense that I was finally reaching the chapter's end; it was time for a change. But I had no idea what that really meant.
So nothing changed. Not in me, anyway. I moved into a home with twice the square footage of my one bedroom apartment, I gained a few more possessions to fill the extra space, I made a few new friends and changed jobs. But nothing in me grew; nothing in me moved. A few pages turned, but I was stuck in the same chapter of my life. I had flat-lined and I needed to have the life shocked back into me.
In the spring of last year I joined a women's Bible study. For those of you who have known me for a few years or more, you know that this was a move highly uncharacteristic of me. I was fiercely feminist and considered myself to be a part of some master gender that looked distinctly female but refused to conform to the image of a Christian woman or any other woman, for that matter.
Someone once told me that the most unoriginal idea in the world is originality for the sake of non-conformity. I was refusing to conform to "society's standards," but conforming nonetheless to an image I had in my mind of a strong woman person.
I was a computer science major working for a Department of Defense contractor. I wanted to work for one of the three-letter national defense agencies when I graduated. I was not a women's Bible study kind of girl. But an e-mail and a string of events led me to Kitty. I was intimidated1 by her. So when she asked (told) me to join her women's Bible study, I listened.
My first day there I can remember feeling like such an outsider. Like a man sitting in on a woman's Bible study. My friends never talked about these things they were sharing. They were quick to welcome me into their discussion, but I felt like there was this wall between myself and them and I prayed that the wall would come down.
And it did. Every week it crumbled a bit more until finally I was cradled in Cathy's lap and feeling absolutely loved by a group of women. Unimaginable.
I was moving. To where I didn't know, but I was finally moving again. I started to let myself be redefined and almost reborn (that is still in process and I hope will forever be). Around the middle of November I thought about how far I had come. But before I could lift an arm to pat myself on the back, I felt a tapping on my shoulder. There was something I hadn't given to God, something I hadn't asked Him about that he wanted a say in.
I had been working for nearly four years toward a career in computer forensics. I had passed the foundations exam (trust me, it's hard), I had spent countless hours in front of a computer screen writing code, I had taken courses in discrete mathematics and combinatorics and physics, and I hadn't once stopped to ask God what He thought about the direction I was headed.
So two months before my graduation, I asked Him. And knowing my stubborn nature, I asked that if my will was not His will, that he would remove the desire from my heart, and that he would give people the words to say to point me in the right direction. I closed my eyes that night, silently hoping that somehow His will would align with mine.
When my eyes opened again, I was in a different place. I was still in my bed with Chester tucked neatly under my arm, but I had this great sense of peace. And my desire to wield a gun and a badge was no longer there. The memory of that desire was nonsense to me, like some kind of children's story with magic beans and unicorns.
The image of the diploma I was about to receive came into my mind and I had an overwhelming sense that God was asking me to give it to Him.
Hand it over. Trust me on this.
I kept thinking, "But I worked so hard!" And then…
It was never yours to begin with.
So I told Him I would burn my degree on the altar. The piece of paper isn't what matters (so don't worry mom, I'm not actually going to set fire to my diploma). What matters is the meaning the degree has had for me for the past four years. The life I constructed for myself without talking first to God. He wanted my life — all the grandiose plans of fighting white-collar crime and living in a large metropolitan area and giving my ten percent. He wanted more than ten percent.
Still unsure of what all of that meant, I started hearing from people in conversation that I was supposed to be a writer. A mentor. A pastor. None of these things have a prerequisite of Bachelors of Science in Computer Science, or even really a four year degree. I wasn't going to have the power that comes with a badge. (Put down your weapon! I wrote a book!) And forget a six-figure income. I'm not that great a writer.
People say that there are things they have to wake up every morning and hand over to God. This was something I had to hand over every time it crossed my mind. This was my life. My life.
Now I'm going to take a second to be painfully vague. Those of you who know me well know exactly what I'm talking about and those of you who don't are just going to have to take my word for it. Something happened during this week of talking to God about careers and graduating and purpose. It had nothing to do with that list of things, but it was another event that hurled darkness into my heart. We'll call it The Enlightenment. And it was. It opened my eyes. It gave me the fuel to do something I have wanted to do for a long time. And now that God had officially rocked my world I had more reason than ever to do it.
The trip to Portland. To read, to write, to be very very cold, to just be. The Enlightenment was my fuel.
People at work started asking what I would do once I graduated. And I finally had something solid to tell them: "I'm going to Portland!" I knew what they were really asking, but I was avoiding answering that particular question.
About that time I spotted Travis, a guy that I had worked with at Apple two years ago. He was sitting at one of the tables in the Gallery before Status, zeroed in on the screen of a new MacBook Pro with a sweet decal attached to it. I asked him what he had been up to and he told me that he had started a marketing company and that they were actually looking for someone with my skills to join their team.
I prayed about it and didn't really get an answer. So I went ahead for the interview and got an amazing offer from them. I took it. And two weeks before my trip to Portland, I realized I'd need to let my present company know that I would be leaving them. I was nervous and half expected to go home at the end of the day without saying a word. But after lunch, my boss asked to speak with me. He closed the door and furled his brow and I could tell that the conversation wasn't to tell me how great and invaluable I am. He told me that their office didn't have a full-time position available for me to fill at the end of my internship. I could stay through the end of the holidays, but after that I would have to leave. That was it. I finally had the fuel I needed to write my two weeks' notice e-mails and send them out. It felt so good.
The next day I asked Travis for an official offer letter. He said he'd have it to me in 24 hours. But 24 hours passed and then a week and I heard nothing. Until this morning. Turns out they don't have a position for me after all. Somehow I'm not surprised. That's not even a knock at Travis's character. I am just getting used to how God awakens me and answers prayers. He gives me the fuel to do the things I would otherwise not do out of fear.
- The Enlightenment ⇒ fuel ⇒ Portland
- Job with Travis ⇒ fuel ⇒ leaving Gestalt
- No position available at Gestalt ⇒ fuel ⇒ putting in 2 weeks' notice
- No position available at Travis's company ⇒ fuel ⇒ ??
So this is where I am. Not at some crossroads where I have a decision to make. That's not the right metaphor. Perhaps up in a tree would be a better word picture, clinging to the trunk, asking God which limb to step out on. Or walking down a great hall, watching Him open and close doors and wondering which ones will remain open. Wondering if there is a choice for me to make or if He has made them all already. Not really caring which of the two it is.
I am graduating in little more than a week. I have already given the diploma representing my three years at UCF (and the 67 credits I came in with) to God. All this to say I still don't know what direction I'm headed in or what God has in store for me. It's so unlike my nature to be comfortable in the unknown. But in my patience — in my sitting still and trusting Him to do all the creative work for me — I am finally moving.
The next chapter is finally beginning.
1 There was a fantastic typo here when I first posted this blog. So good that I included it as a footnote: "But an e-mail and a string of events led me to Kitty. I was intimate by her."