"Consider your waiting...are you in a scared pause or a sacred pause? One letter makes a big difference." (Emily P. Freeman) That is more than a clever phase to me. It is a light shining out of the shadows of indecision because I know I am called to create.
The truth is we don't always know how the future will pan out and that can keep us from living in the present. I have been challenged with this truth recently. If you've read very many of my blog posts, you have figured out that I believe joy is found in creating. No matter the style of creativity that is called for, I get pretty excited when whatever I set my mind to create results in a product that meets the need I focused on. But what about dealing with a compelling to create without having clarity on the exact results? What if the final goal is murky? What if the answer seems uncertain? What if I put all of my effort into this and it is rejected?
I really have two choices:
1) I can let fear of the unknown put life on hold
or
2) I can create without needing clarity
The latter flies in the face of my goal setting personality. And yet, the act of creating is what breathes life into my soul. Faith to do what I feel called to do can still thrive even when fear is whispering in my ear. Because there will always be unknowns. The 'what-ifs' abound.
As a teacher for twenty-one years, I have a deep desire to help fellow teachers succeed both professionally and personally. I have some ideas of programs and resources to develop that I believe can bridge the gap between the demands of the job and the realities of limited time and energy. Stuff that no one teaches you in college, but can make or break one's teaching experience. My talents and burdens are colliding in such a way that I know this is my calling. But even in the midst of my calling, the 'what-ifs' can get in the way of taking action. "What if no one takes me up on what I offer?" "What if people don't understand how this can help?" Since I automatically seek comfort in knowing the details, the 'how' questions get to me also: "How will this look when it's done?" "How can I get this to the teachers that need it?" or "Who specifically is going to use this?"
Often it is the most simple advice responsible for breakthroughs. The following is a phrase I adopted from Emily P. Freeman and her podcast The Next Right Thing that is helping me conquer decision paralysis: "Stop rushing clarity. Start creating."
It is powerful in its simplicity and profound in its impact. On the heels of this nugget of wisdom is another great thought from Emily's newest book also entitled The Next Right Thing: "Look for arrows over answers." My arrow is pointing toward the path of equipping fellow teachers with strategies for fulfilling their purpose to make a difference in kids' lives while also creating space for self-care margins that develop their own mind, body, and spirit. I don't know exactly what form communicating those strategies will ultimately take. I don't know exactly which teachers this help will connect with. But I do know that I am compelled to create and share.
