loss, then discovery

There is a pattern throughout literature that more closely resembles real life than we sometimes realize, and that is the pattern of "loss, then discovery".

Every rags-to-riches story begins this way. The hero or heroine loses something terribly precious - often a family member or other loved one, sometimes a home or a job, sometimes a dream. Whatever it may be, the Lukes and Annes and Jos and Janes are hit with a terrible loss that shakes them to their core ... and then, something beautiful and mighty softly flows into their open, defenseless hands.

A dusty old lightsaber hits a work-worn palm. A new love springs from the ashes of death. A fresh dream is softly planted by a gentle word. The morning of hope, as our Father foretold, follows the darkness of night.

***

A day still does not go by that I don't feel the bitter pain of my messy separation from my clinical graduate program. I don't know why it continues to hurt or when it will go away, but I suspect my fellow INFP friend was right when she said it was because I've never lost anything before. I've never had a close family member die, never been rejected, and certainly never poured so much of myself into something that would end in failure.

But you see ... that day that I hid under the stairwell and wept for two hours? That only felt like the end. Just like my favorite literary characters, I was really just being dragged into the place where my story could finally begin.

***

I spent most of the summer regaining my bearings. My job started as a safe place to land for a while - the old editor was a good friend of mine; the new editor is a peaceful, ambling man who puts no pressure on me; and some of the oldest employees there have known me since I was born. I thought I was protecting myself from the inevitable pain of the past and the future - yes, I had another graduate program as my upcoming destination, but for the summer, I was going to hide behind my big desk and quietly write nice little articles for nice little publications.

Well, that plan started to fall through when my new editor somehow started believing that I was a really, really gifted writer. As in, good enough that he said so to my face, to my older team members, and finally to the department head herself. My little articles gave way to bigger articles, then stories for small magazines, then out-of-town multimedia assignments.

My shattered self-confidence didn't know what to expect from any of this; but to my surprise, I not only handled it easily, but I kept getting better. I have gone from meekly penning informational releases, to crafting feature stories with flair and even humor. Next week, I will be the official media coordinator for my first statewide event.

My editor was my mentor, pushing a lightsaber into my hands and telling me to let the Force flow through me ... and somehow, I did.

***

And would you believe that this is all still just backstory?

The biggest breakthrough of all happened just after John and Heather and I moved. I was in a terrible haze of anxiety and nerves and didn't know up from down; and one day, my mom said, "Have you ever considered transferring to study in the department where you're working?"

I think I mumbled "No, not really".

She said, "Well, why don't you? Consider it, I mean. Meet with the graduate coordinator next week and just talk to him."

"About what?" I asked.

"Writing, you goof," she replied.

So I did. I went and talked to him about writing ... for two hours. Then we talked again, about educational writing. And then we talked again about Star Trek and Irish pubs and nontraditional education (homeschooling!) and theories of communication and how to use words to change people's lives.

"Please apply," he said. "You need to be here. You need to be with us so we can help you and support you. Please, please apply. We want you. I want you."

So I'm applying.

I, the scatterbrained failure, the old child who can't find a place for herself, am going to research better ways to get informational articles and materials to people who need them. I'm going to write. I'm going to take journalism classes. I'm going to keep reading and learning from the great communicators and storytellers around me. I'm going to take this incredible gift - this gift of writing that I've carried nonchalantly around on my hip all these years - and finally, truly learn how to use it, how to become a powerful communicator who can help get knowledge to people who need it.

***

I don't know what the next step will be - I haven't the faintest idea what God has in store. But for now, I'm just content to know that He isn't finished with me yet!

My biggest ongoing challenge is to not be so engrossed in self-discovery that I neglect God's teaching and wisdom. Everything has happened so fast and surprised me so much that I spend a lot of time staring at my published articles or my face on the department website and marveling that I could find myself in such a place; but I need to keep looking forward, not get stuck looking around or inward.

The past continues to be a stumbling block for me, too. I still have a great deal of bitterness festering in my heart that I'm not sure how to get rid of. But I know I have to get it rooted out now, so it doesn't taint the excitement and hard work of the next chapter of my story.

The solution, of course, to stop looking in the wrong places is to look in the right place - toward the Word of God and toward seeking His face. I desperately want His blessing and His working in every second of the upcoming years, but I need to reflect that desire in my prayer life and devotions. I pray that He would increase my desire to know who He wants me to be, and especially Who He is.

***

I pray that the Lord would sharpen me into a vessel of His grace, and that He would write in my life a story of hope that will inspire others to keep trusting Him and not give up on His loving plan!!

What about you? Has God been creating any surprises in your life? Tell me about them so I can rejoice with you!!

~ Vicki