Growing up, I taught everyone that would put up with it–my poor younger brother, dolls, animals, even my grandfather. My grandfather quickly became the culprit of my lesson plans and was the best student I probably ever had! It was always my dream to be a teacher or to open my own dance studio.
I had no idea that when I became a teacher nine years ago, God would plant another dream in my heart.
Maybe not the one about opening a dance studio, although I see the threads of dance woven throughout my life, but one about being a mother, being a wife, and being a friend that was actually available to those around me.
I certainly had no idea this list would also include photographer.
But each of those, give me a title.
And that’s not what I’m after.
You see, several weeks ago, I turned in my letter of resignation at my school.
And now I will get to live another dream I did not even know I had until I was pregnant with my first child.
I will get to stay at home with my boys. I will get to be an available coach’s wife. I will get to take pictures of people because they trust me.
The fear of resignation, though, oftentimes develops fear of burning bridges. In this situation of letting go, however, my goal is to build bridges.
I have felt this call to mother, to write, to love unconditionally in all aspects of life, and for so long, my job as a teacher was a dream come true–it was that calling that I couldn’t let go.
But the beauty among this new letting go is that I can still do all of those things at either place–school or home. But for one year (this month), I have felt an urge, a push to let go of what is “safe” to me, along with financial comfort, and pursue another dream.
Nevertheless, every single time I held back fearful of this urge because I loved my job.
Until I realized it was not my job.
This became even more apparent as I wrote in my journal about not wanting to give up my job. Then, I turned the page to a chapter that was titled, “Giving Up What Was Never Ours.”
My dream job as a teacher in our community, though, came at the perfect time for me as I had a new child and my husband was, too, offered a job in our own community literally weeks later.
Now the call is different and a little scarier. It is to be home because there are not just two children, but fifteen—they just may not all share our last name.
The fear is certainly still there. But God keeps reminding me He will provide as we work to live on a teacher’s salary.
Most importantly, I see these threads of teaching and dancing stand out among these dreams in an artistic way I didn’t even know existed.
And that is evidence of God’s hand. Of God’s thumbprint on every single aspect of our lives.
I get to teach my own children (No, I’m not homeschooling, just in general.). I get to work with children as I take their pictures. I get to understand the discipline my husband inflicts on his players, because I was disciplined for so many years as a dancer, and I, too, was a coach.
I keep saying these are things I “get to do” because I am blown away.
I am blown away because I had no idea this is where I would be or that this is where I would want to be.
I certainly had no idea writing would even be a part of it.
And that, teaching, writing, photography, dance and coaching have all opened doors beyond our wildest dreams.
And for that I am beyond grateful every single day.