It's Spirit Week at school.
Five days of ninjas and princesses and painted faces and pajamas.
And today... today was Secret Ambition Day.
We were all supposed to dress up like the thing we really want to be but know we will never actually be.
Oh good grief.
After much wrestling thought, I decided to dress like a writer.
Because, after all, that is my secret ambition, right?
Something I will never actually be...
You know, it's too hard.
I'm not that good...
I suppose my idea of what a writer looks like is naive at best, but it's all a dream, right?
So it doesn't really matter.
T-shirt, jeans, cardigan, slippers, messy bun, and a pretty little flower in my hair.
My idea of comfortably pretty.
My idea of peaceful.
You know, that secret one?
And somewhere between the rushing out the door at 6:45 and reaching the four-way stop in my little country town at 6:51, it hit me, like a ton of bricks...
This secret ambition isn't secret anymore.
When they ask me what my secret ambition is, I will shuffle my feet nervously and admit, a catch in my throat, "I want to be a writer."
And they will know.
Because isn't there a saying about if you say it, it's real?
But I'll never be a writer.
Who would read my words anyway?
This little flicker of desire has been floating around inside my head for weeks now.
And quite frankly, I have no idea what to do with it.
God, what are you leading me to do in the future?
What are you preparing me for?
I'm scared... don't let me fall, alright?
I'm good with them.
I'm the proofreader and the email-composer and the article-writer and the essay-grader.
I splash words on a page- they come from my heart- and somehow, they paint a picture.
I have no idea how it happens.
I never do.
But God does.
People tell me just to write what I know.
And God moves my fingers across the clicking keys...
Today, I opened my mouth wide and admitted something to the world that I was too scared to admit even to myself-
I want to write.
And I have NO idea where that will lead...