You Can Run, But You Can't Hide

In High School I was a B student, essentially because I was intrinsically lazy. Not video game, never showering, same jeans all week lazy - but lazy enough that I saw no real value in killing myself to learn chemistry when I would rather be at the beach. I'll admit it, I cared more about investing in my social relationships then I did about getting into college - a notion that was not high on the priority list in my family. My parents were bred on Associates Degrees and hard, middle class work. I had no serious expectation put on me to attend an ivy league school, but I was never hindered either. The sky was the limit for me and my siblings, but the drive had to come from inside us as individuals, as my parents favored morality and faith over masters degrees.

And I could not thank them more for their inaction. It taught me to weigh out my options in life, and decide which road to follow based on my own understanding of what I felt I could accomplish. And I have to say, at 29 years old, its not always been right - in fact often this road Ive walked has been downright terrible and heart breaking - but its been worth it and its been on my own terms. At the end of the day, I have no one to answer to but God. And thats all my parents ever wanted me to learn.

These past few months have been difficult to say the least. Somewhere along the line I got this idea in my head that I was owed success. I mean why not, I had always been able to tap dance my way through jobs I was not quite qualified for with a resume chock full of pretty adjectives just long enough to learn the correct amount to get me to the next phase, next step, next state. If I had a masters degree in anything, it was in doing the bare minimum. Emotionally, financially, vocationally - you name it. The only thing I seemed to expend any energy towards was complaining about everything I had not yet achieved, and who or what was standing in my way. On that checklist was moving back east, which I whole heartedly believed was where I would become a decorated magazine writer, fabulous socialite and inevitable toast of the town.

Not quite.

10 months after moving I was laid off from a job I absolutely hated for its beige employees and morbid redundancy. Not exactly the glamorous position I had envisioned. As per usual, I was gleefully convinced, as I was handed my severance package, that I was officially free to pursue the kind of job I was always meant to have, and soon important job interviews were lined up.

And then something weird started to happen. My tap dance was not working anymore - they started asking me for specifics and evidence and a plan for how I was going to become this star, this "it" girl of New England... and I did not have an answer. I got no call backs.
Me, Ramen, and Coors light staged a silent rebellion on my couch against Boston for its inability to see how talented and valuable I was. God and I also had some serious conversations about why He was choosing to allow this to happen to me. I mean, hello? Why give me these "talents" and interests, this passion and voracity, if they were going to be completely unused and wasted?! He was messing up the plans I had for my life, could'nt He see that?

"For I know the thoughts I think toward you, says the Lord, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future filled with hope." Jeremiah 29:11



Despite my tantrum throwing self, I found myself at church agreeing to volunteer at a youth center in Dorchester, essentially the east coast's Compton. The only irony here is that, my niece and nephew aside, I've never cared for kids much at all. They require energy and a certain level of selflessness Ive never been fond of. Certainly not in a tutoring or mentoring capacity. I mean really, what wisdom was I going to impart, the correct placement of eye liner? A really well-written, snarky press statement? Tales of the perfect shoe? I even have a degree in Education, which I decided to forgo in exchange for a career in make-up, just to avoid spending every single day with bratty children. Im not what one would call particularly patient.
So it still baffles me when I ponder the larger forces at play that were involved in getting me to agree to wake up early every Saturday morning and spend an hour on public transportation to hang out in the most un-glamorous of neighborhoods, just for the chance to become a hug dispenser, a battle referee and a jump rope wrangler.

And its changed my life.

Ive spent my whole life assuming I was in charge, not just of me and my life but of some of you reading this too! (You know its true.)
Ive side-stepped, skirted, cajoled, coaxed, manipulated and circumvented any sort of activity that would require me to abandon the plans I've laid out for myself, which, in short, were to become a person with wealth and accolades that impressed... who? I wrote the book on selfish, self-indulgent, dramatic, delusional women. And served as the Mayor of Crazy Town for more than my share of terms.

It took a bunch of sassy, bratty, absolutely wonderful kids to explain to me that I was never really in control of anything. This is God's parade and Im just walking, smiling and waiving. The course its taking... well Ive foolishly believed I was influencing the direction. I never really was at all.

So now Im scraping by on unemployment benefits, living a life of significantly less grandeur, for the first time having absolutely no idea whats going to happen next week or next month, and loving every minute of it.

You can run from yourself, but you can't hide from God.

"Eye has not seen, nor ear heard, nor has entered in to the heart of man, the things which the Lord has prepared for those who love him." 1 Corinthians 2:9