Reading the Last Page First
Do you know anyone who reads the last page of the book first? That’s something I’ve done for as long as I can remember. When I admit it, it sounds a little silly. Why would anyone want to know the happily ever after or the tragedy that might take place before they know all the colorful details, right?
Maybe it’s innocent curiosity, a way for me to establish an atmosphere for my reading experience, or a way to capture the big picture first.
Reading and writing have consistently delivered a collaboration of experiences for me. Even when I’m reading someone else’s story, I tend to visualize the details in my mind. Sometimes I even miss the characters once I’ve finished reading the story. Do you know anyone who always seems to say the book was better than the movie? Yep, that’s me too.
I may have been around eight years old when I first announced that I wanted to be a poet. In second grade, I entered a poetry contest and won a prize for my literary efforts. I also loved drawing, so I included an illustration with my poem, giving my entry an edge above the others. I know that sounds dramatic for an eight-year-old, but that was just the beginning for this poet. Did I mention I’m somewhat of a secret competitor? More with myself than others, but nonetheless.
I wrote poetry for myself all through school, and many of the poems I wrote somehow managed to travel through life with me- notebooks of them sit tucked away on my office shelves even now. Poetry has put words to events that have taken place in my life and often gave me a creative way of expressing myself and staying in my head.
I told my dad that I wanted to be a journalist in middle school. I think he had aspirations for me to be the next Katie Couric, but I wasn’t sure broadcast journalism was on my list. I wanted to be the next Pauline Phillips (Abigail Van Buren), the American advice columnist responsible for Dear Abby. How exciting would it be to devote all of my time to being a creative responder to those in need of encouragement?
Eventually, my Dear Abby dream turned into wanting to be a Psychologist. But before I knew it, I was told I would be a great teacher when I grew up, and I was chosen for the Delta Gamma Beta award to help pay for expenses during my first year of college, an award given to aspiring educators at my high school.
I would change my major three times during my first year of college. I started out studying Special Education, moved on to Art Education, and by June 1998, my major was Elementary Education. In 2001, I graduated (somehow on time) with a degree in Interdisciplinary Studies, concentrating in Psychology & Sociology. I guess you could call me that girl with all those interests. At 42, I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.
Following graduation, I taught 3-K at a YWCA, and a year later, I answered a newspaper ad (yep, you read that right) for a job in Early Intervention. I hadn’t heard of it, but if it would get me out of the confines of a classroom, I was all for it. For ten years, I would spend my workdays working with families (in their homes) from all walks of life who had children up to six years old with developmental delays and diagnosed disabilities.
Early Intervention indeed filled my emotional cup. I had the unique privilege of spending time with families who experienced the challenges and joys of having children with complex needs. Day in and day out, I advocated for, listened to, comforted, and coached families in strategies to help their children reach their developmental potential. But, somehow, something was missing for me. It had nothing to do with the actual work and everything to do with wanting to be free.
After five years of working for someone else, a co-worker and I established our own business doing the same work. We designed our business plan and our company’s mission, vision, and values from the ground up. It was a dream come true.
Let’s stop right here and reflect on another topic for a moment. The year before starting the business, I experienced the tragedy of three miscarriages. And I became a foster parent about six months into the new business journey. Honestly, the best I can describe this season is somewhere between lost and found. A place no one else but the Lord was willing to understand.
One afternoon I was driving home from one of my late-day family training sessions. Driving up Interstate 85 North, I specifically remember the prayer I prayed in my car that day. I was in my mid to late twenties, feeling physically and mentally depleted. But that day, I somehow found the spiritual energy to ask the Lord to present me with an opportunity to minister to other women outside of my current career. I felt an urgency to use my struggles to meet other women where they were in their journey while trying to heal in my own.
I hadn’t picked up the pen to write a lot in those days. But, I did find myself reading a lot. I read a couple of trilogies, an adult Judy Blume book or two, books my counselor recommended, and my Bible- a lot. Funny, I even remember my soon-to-be ex-husband telling me that I read too much. (Me looking perplexed- then and now), is that even possible?
I wonder if I had been able to read the last page of my story first, would those last few chapters of that season have been easier to endure?
Fast forward several years. This time was one of the most exciting times of my life. Visiting parts of the gulf coast and town hopping during April and October landed my newlywed husband and me in Pensacola, FL. During the last vacation we spent here, and as we drove down 9th Ave., I pointed to the hospital across the street from the Cordova Mall, saying, “I’m going to work there someday.”
Before leaving the field of Early Intervention in 2012, I remember standing on a railroad tie in the parking lot at work. I was chatting away on the phone with my husband about our plans to move to Pensacola that August. I don’t remember the conversation leading up to my statement, so I’m not sure why I said it. Still, I do specifically remember saying, “What if the Lord is taking us to Florida to be involved in ministry?”
The exciting new job I was supposed to start in Pensacola fell through within days of moving eight hours away from my family and friends. I was devastated, but by the end of 2012, we had moved back to South Carolina. And by mid to late 2013, I had finished a program at the Institute for Nail Artistry. Never would I ever have thought I would be a nail artist. Yes, that’s what I said. I started working as a licensed nail technologist, and my niche was nail art. I created whimsical masterpieces on tiny surfaces.
My husband Eric is a hairstylist, and in 2013 we opened a salon in Greer, SC. We’ve always been the couple that got along better with more time spent together, so this was going to be an exciting adventure. Something else genuinely remarkable happened during the four years I worked in the salon. I began to see how God was beautifully answering the prayers of a young woman in her twenties that had asked for a place in women’s ministry.
Women would sit in the chair across from me, and as soon as I held their hands to begin their service, some of them would start pouring their hearts out, crying softly, and sharing freely. Some of them broken, hurting, and feeling alone. That was a season for which Romans 12:15–16 spoke directly to my heart, saying, “Rejoice with those who rejoice and weep with those who weep. Be of the same mind toward one another.”
The time I spent in that creative space with other women inspired me to go back to school to pursue a degree in Counseling. To “connect with my roots,” I also decided to return to a job in Human Services. By this time, I also noticed a possible pattern. Was I becoming restless in my work every four to five years, or was this actually part of the Lord’s plan for my life?
In 2017, I finished graduate school and received an opportunity to return to the field of Early Intervention in Pensacola at the same hospital on 9th Ave. I had pointed at and made a declaration for about five years prior.
Returning to my field in an administrative role has had significant ups and downs. There have been times I wanted to run, and there have been other offers in the counseling field, but the Lord’s answer so far has been “no.” There have also been times I’ve asked the Lord, “why.” The verses I find He has me repeat often are, “(23) Work willingly at whatever you do, as though you were working for the Lord rather than for people. (24) Remember that the Lord will give you an inheritance as your reward and that the Master you are serving is Christ.” Colossians 4:23-24.
What I’ve shared here offers what I believe to be a significant theme. A theme designed for a story that started with a child who said she would be a poet, journalist, and psychologist. A young adult who wanted to teach and a woman that wanted to be a mother, servant, artist, and counselor. It is a story that includes declarations of faith and remembering specific statements from specific points in time. I know these aspirations were not an accident. They were sewn into that child by the creator Himself.
When I announced that I wanted to be a writer, I was confident that God spoke to my heart, saying, “If it’s important to you, it’s important to me.” Each stage and level I obtained between that moment and now have been part of a building and rebuilding process He designed. And as Paul wrote in Philippians 1:6, we can all be confident that our God began a work in us and will continue that work until Jesus returns.
In the theme offered above, I see a circle that continues to revolve around a life filled with callings; callings never meant to be isolated from one another or happen one at a time. They all continue to work together. Why not be an author, mother, teacher, servant, artist, and counselor all simultaneously and in the context of the current season? I may get paid to do one, but it doesn’t mean I can’t moonlight for free while fully committing to the others.
I didn’t obtain a degree in Creative Writing or Journalism. I’m not a theologian or Bible scholar. I don’t have a teaching certificate or a license to practice counseling. But, I know my calling is in everything I do and everything I was created to do. And, most importantly I’m learning to accept my identity from who I am and who I belong to and not what I do.
C.S. Lewis said, “Relying on God has to start all over every day as if nothing has yet been done.” I see this as being true on so many levels, especially as it relates to our purpose. If I’m so hung up on a title, label, or job description that makes me identifiable to the world, I think I risk missing out on my daily calling. It takes all of who I am to do my work and fulfill my calling. And when I remember to make these things about His purpose and not about myself, I’m allowing God to use my unique characteristics, experiences, skills, and calling to glorify His purpose and plan for my life.
Sitting where I am now, more than ever, I’m able to reflect on what I see about a future that He prepared for me. As I grow in Christ, I think I’m more willing to allow His plan to become my plan. And suddenly, it doesn’t sound so silly to read the last page of the book first. I mean, as believers in Christ, shouldn’t we begin with the end in mind anyway?
“So let’s not get tired of doing what is good. At just the right time, we will reap a harvest of blessings if we don’t give up.” Galatians 6:9
