We don't always know

Sometimes the heart knows where it needs to be, even if we try to take it elsewhere.

When I was in high school, I really felt like the most enjoyable career for me would be as a teacher, yet I didn't actually admit that to anyone. I honestly wouldn't even admit it to myself. Nope, I was meant to be a sports reporter.

I was a journalism major in college and continued to pursue the sports reporting career, covering games and writing for the various publications at the multiple universities I attended. I even started some freelance work researching and writing for ESPN during my last year of college (something I actually ended up doing for about five years).

When I graduated, I only sought jobs in sports media, though something within me still said this wasn't the right path. I decided to ignore that voice. I love sports, and I love to write. Why would I not combine the two? Eventually I hoped to be a SportsCenter anchor and follow in the footsteps of the great Linda Cohn. It didn't matter that the lives of those in her profession revolved around their jobs, right? I mean, surely it was the glam life.

I started working for an online publication after college and covered local high school sports. My lifestyle changed so drastically so quickly. Weekdays were spent going to schools for interviews and information, covering weeknight sporting events, and writing various news pieces and features for our site. Friday nights were dedicated solely to football and making sure I went immediately home to delve out my stories. Those were always late nights, and Saturday mornings were early, as I had to go report on cross country meets. Just as I knew it would be, my job was my life, and time with friends and family came second.

I remember feeling overwhelmed much of the time, but this was the life I was supposed to have, right? Forget the fact that when I interviewed teachers and coaches I wished we could switch roles. Nope, I was living the dream.

One morning while running, I found myself praying about my situation. I didn't want to quit my job, but I wasn't sure I was really happy and that this was the career for me.

Sometimes God answers prayers immediately.

We had a company meeting that morning, and our president told us that we were going out of business and that we should all start seeking new jobs. Wow. I was stunned. I felt relieved, but at the same time I really didn't know what to do. I didn't have a plan.

But He did.

Five years of awesome.

It became clear to me that this was my cue to go after what I knew I was supposed to do: teach. It's amazing how quickly everything came together. I got the news in March, worked a couple of jobs at once (as a publisher's assistant and at the rec center in my hometown), and began an alternate certification program. I actively started looking for teaching positions, went to a few job fairs, and met with my elementary school principal to get some advice from her. Before long, I got a call from a high school, had an interview the next day, and was hired two days later. When I got the phone call, I did a cartwheel in the lobby of the rec center.

I can't believe it's already been five years. There have definitely been some ups and downs, but I'm absolutely certain that I'm exactly where I need to be. Sure, there are days when the kiddos drive me bonkers, but you can't help but love them. I care for each student who walks through my door, and I truly hope that all of the them leave as better people than they were before. I don't just want to help them in their writing and video editing—I want to see that they're prepared to go into the real world and make real impacts on others.

I'm honestly thankful I took the path I did, because I think I needed to see that sports journalism isn't what I was meant to do. I'd rather just enjoy the sports, be a biased fan, and make more time for the people I care about and love. And, you know, educate the future of America.

You don't always dance to the tune you thought you would, but often the song that ends up playing is so much better.

Photo finish

Sometimes a good moment and a bad moment can happen at the exact same time.

Even in a race.

Last Friday, my top runner competed in the 1600-meter race at our Area Championship Track Meet, the day after she placed fifth in the 3200. Only the top four places move on to the regional meet, so it was obviously disappointing, and she was looking to redeem herself. We knew it would be a huge challenge, though. She was sitting at fifth in the rankings going into the race, and the four girls in front of her were like her personal Goliaths—she had never beaten any of them.

But my precious Morgan looked confident warming up, and she didn't even seem very nervous during my pre-race speech to her. I think I might have had more anxiety than she did right then.

When the gun went off, the two top girls didn't wait too long to separate themselves from the rest of the pack. Morgan was sitting well with three others, while the last two trailed pretty far behind that middle pack. The first two laps looked great, but I started to get a little worried during the third lap when two of the girls started pulling away from Morgan, which left her sitting in fifth.

Again.

On the final lap, I was concerned that the gap had grown too big. With 200 meters left, one girl pulled farther ahead to ensure she'd clinch third, and the girl in fourth (who usually dominates our district) appeared as if she had her ticket to regionals in the bag.

And then things changed.

Better than the finishing pic

When I looked up to see Morgan with 100 meters left in the race, there was a look of determination on her face that can't even be described as wonderfully as it should. She wanted this. "Holy schnikes! She's gonna catch her!" She had gained so much ground on her and was literally expending every single ounce of energy she had left in her already worn-out body. At the very end of the race, no one in the area could even tell who captured that last spot to advance to the next meet. I frantically started asking everyone, but they all said they couldn't tell. Well, they had cameras at the finish line (and I even had the official go to the press box to review), and my little Morgan barely missed out by .02 of a second.

Heartbreak.

When we saw the final times and places pop up on the scoreboard, I wasn't sure how my kiddo was going to take it. The previous night had left her in tears (we actually had more hope for her going in the 3200), and Friday night's race was so close that I thought it would hurt even more. But, instead of letting her emotions get the best of her, Morgan—in a very composed and matter-of-fact way—looked up and said, "You know what, I'm happy with it. I know I didn't make it, but I just ran the race of my life, and that's all I could do."

Disappointments are going to be common in our lives, but it's how we handle them that shapes who we are as individuals. Morgan could have been down on herself all night and let everyone know how upsetting it is to come so close to obtaining a goal and not reaching it. But she chose a more mature route—one that allowed her to be proud of breaking her own school record and finishing a race with more guts than she ever has.

And it was nice to see her smiling with the friends who came to support her rather than them comforting her as she wept in their arms. I'm proud of her for being bold and not breaking down—and now she has even more determination for the seasons to come (she's only a sophomore).

Things definitely won't always go the way we want, but even the biggest disappointments can turn out to be the greatest sources of motivation.

Tossing gloves and love

There are often people looking out for us when we don't realize it.

Even in restaurant parking lots.

On Sunday, it wasn't super cold out, but I started my long run wearing gloves, because my hands get cold very easily, and I really don't like to have cold hands. But they actually got rather warm not too long into the run, and I ended up taking them off before we even reached four miles. Now, they are a pair of $1 gloves from Target, so it wouldn't have been a big deal if I had just ditched them on the side of the road, but, to be honest, I've become attached to them and didn't want to give them up. Plus, I justified it with the notion that perhaps my hands would get chilled later during the run (even though I knew this wasn't a plausible possibility).

Toward the end, we passed by our starting point with about a mile to go. So I just threw my gloves on the ground in the parking lot, figuring they would be just fine while we added on what we needed.

Don't always assume.

When we got back to the parking lot, Dan asked me where my gloves went. Oh no! They were definitely not in the spot where I tossed them and certainly nowhere else in the surrounding area. I know it's silly, but I was a bit sad about this. I loved those gloves.

Dan mentioned that maybe someone from Breadwinners or a parking lot attendant had picked them up, but it was too early for any parking lot people to be there. "But then there was the homeless man we saw walking down the street." Thanks for the reminder, Dan.

We had asked at the restaurant, but no one could really help us out. Then, alas! The owner walked out and told me he had seen me throw my gloves on the ground and had gone outside, picked them up, and then put them in the parking lot attendant box to keep them safe for me. He said he knows a lot of people walk around in this area, and he didn't know how long I would be gone, and he didn't want anyone to pick them while passing by the lot.

Some guy who didn't know a thing about me made a choice to take care of me.

There are still good people in this world.

No, losing a pair of cheap gloves wouldn't be the end of the world, but it's heartwarming to know that there are people who care enough about others to perform even small acts of kindness for others. And you don't have to be a restaurant owner to do so. Every day, we are given opportunities to care for others, and I think far too many times we let these chances slip through our fingers. It's not that difficult to wait a few extra seconds to hold the door for the person behind you; it won't harm you to bend down and help the person who dropped papers all over the floor; you don't have to move mountains to allow the car in the lane next to you to go in front of you; smiling at someone who looks like he or she may really need some cheering up is not the equivalent of performing brain surgery; giving a friend or coworker a ride home—even if it is slightly out of your way—won't throw your world into complete chaos; letting your heart show a little bit of extra love won't bring about your downfall.

I think the world could use a lot more people like my glove hero—those people God places in our lives when we least expect them. They seemingly come out of nowhere and can suddenly turn your disgruntled feelings into smiles of genuine happiness. And I think it makes those who help us feel better, too. Life is more enjoyable when you're letting love rule and giving a little bit more of your time and energy for the sake of selflessness.

After all, cold hands from tossed gloves need warm hearts to be there for them.

Deciding to decide

I really hate making decisions.

Especially when they seem like monumental life decisions.

Unfortunately, they are huge parts of our lives and something we must do on a daily basis. And I mean it when I say "unfortunately." For some reason, having to decide even the simplest things gives me anxiety.

I mean, I went to four different colleges because of my inability to be comfortable with my decision-making abilities. I started off at Texas A&M University then transferred to the University of North Texas during my second semester so that I could use that time to decide on where I was going to finish my education. But I found myself back at A&M my sophomore year, because I couldn't make up my mind on anywhere else, and I thought maybe I didn't give Aggieland a fair shot. I guess I thought wrong, because I transferred to Southern Methodist University to start my junior year. I liked it there, but I thought it would be fun to go to college with my sister, and she had just started at Texas Christian University, so I went there for the second semester of my junior year. And I hated every second of it. My mom had told me TCU had to be my last stop, but she felt sorry for me after seeing how miserable I was, so I returned to SMU to finish off such a lovely college experience.

In hindsight, I honestly could have been completely happy at A&M for all four years—if I had let myself be.

I think that's another thing about decisions: you not only get to choose some of your surroundings, but you also get to choose your attitude with each situation you face. I know there are some trials we face in life that we would never actually want, but we always get to choose how we respond to whatever life throws at us. My bad decision history obviously didn't dwindle much in college, as I didn't let myself find true joy in the places I should have.

Then there are those decisions that are more complicated than our attitudes—the ones that keep you up at night or cause you to make pros and cons lists when you would normally never do something so diligent.

Like one I recently had to make.

I think the important thing about making those decisions that seem so monumental is following God's will in your life—plus, prayer will give you much more guidance than any pros/cons list can. But I don't consider discernment one of my gifts, and I often question the big choices I make (obviously, seeing the history I've already recounted). I think, though, that deep in our hearts we really know what direction we are supposed to go or what roads we are supposed to take. After all, I think that when Ross is listening to Rachel's voicemail in the final episode of FRIENDS, before she walks in through the door and says, "I got off the plane," we all knew that she had chosen not to go to Paris and leave behind the person she was meant to be with for the rest of her life. She had a decision, and she let her heart make it for her.

And I think that's often the best way to go.

Rather than over-thinking outcomes and instances that may or may never happen, it's sometimes the better choice simply to let impulses take over. Trust me, they write songs about this stuff (and I'm not just talking about ones by Taylor Swift—if you don't believe me, listen to Casey James' "Crying on a Suitcase").

One nerve-racking thing about decisions is that they can often bring about significant change—and change can be quite scary. But it's helpful in these moments of fear to remember Hilary Duff's advice in her song "Why Not?": Why not take a crazy chance? Why not do a crazy dance? If you lose a moment, you might lose a lot, so why not? Why not?

I guess decisions don't have to be as complicated as I sometimes make them; taking chances doesn't have to be so intimidating; change doesn't have to seem so scary. Confidence in your choices will make them that much more enjoyable.

And maybe you, too, can one day walk through the door and say with passion in your heart, "I got off the plane."

Pain and Cheetos

I love a good bit of wisdom, even when it comes in the most unexpected situations.

Like at a hospital on Easter.

When I woke up Sunday morning, my stomach hurt a little bit, and I thought it looked a little bigger than normal, but I thought maybe I was just beefing up some. But almost midway through my long run, it started hurting really badly, and I ended up going to the emergency room when we finished the run, because I'd had this pain before and had a feeling I knew what it was: a ruptured cyst. Sure enough, after getting an ultrasound and a bunch of other tests (I don't remember it all, because they had given me something special for my pain through that IV), the doctor told me the cyst was probably what was causing the bulge in my stomach that morning, and it had likely burst while I was running, causing the excruciating pain that ensued.

How lovely.

I spent a good portion of the day there, so I got to have a nice chat with the sweet nurse Lynette, who kept making fun of me for things I had said throughout the day—things I didn't remember saying. She laughed and said I must really like Cheetos, and I just smiled and agreed, though I was quite confused.

Band-Aids can help.

But Lynette also said some things that will stick with me.

At one point, she asked me my level of pain on a scale from 1-10. I said 13. She told me not to worry, because it will eventually become less and less until all of the pain is completely gone. "And I'm not just talking about this explosion within you, little lady," she said. (She has a way with words, obviously.) She reminded me that all pain, whether emotional or physical, will one day subside. I think it's fitting she said this on Easter, the day Jesus rose from the grave after experiencing more pain than we'll ever know when He hung on that cross.

My ruptured cyst will soon be mended; that scrape you got when you fell off your bike will scab over and heal; that nasty break you got in your leg when you landed on it wrong in a basketball game will take time but will still mend; your broken heart will find happiness again; that torn ACL will be repaired; that sunburn will peel and go away (and hopefully turn into a tan). There are many more pains in life, some of which are much more serious. But God is bigger than all of them and will bring healing to them all—even if it doesn't happen while we're on this earth.

Because pain isn't forever, but Jesus is.

I'm not glad I spent Sunday in the hospital, but I'm glad I met Lynette. She was the angel I needed when I was all alone and in need of comfort. And apparently she is willing to help me in other areas of my life.

As she was leaving, she winked and said, "And I'll be sure that surgeon takes you up on that offer for the Cheetos date!"

Oh, good gosh.

At least turning about 82 shades of red doesn't hurt.