Blog Post 1: Why Do I Write?

“Find your purpose. Find your purpose. Find your purpose.” The phrase echoed over me for the hundredth time that week as I sat through the end of my freshmen orientation chapel. As always, the thought passed by without meaning. I stood unbothered and melted into the flow of students leaving Grand Canyon University Arena, dodging crying moms and nervous girls in Lululemon crop tops. Worrying about purpose was a concern for those people, not for me. I was going to be an English teacher who traveled and did mission work. I had decided that for myself years ago. Easy. Right?

I held tight to that confidence through the first semester of my freshmen year, eager to begin my second semester and my first full schedule of English education classes.

That spring, at 4:45 p.m. every Tuesday and Thursday, I would weave across campus to a dimly lit classroom on the second floor of the brick Education building for my adolescent psychology class. During these times of instruction on student behavior, technical content never existed without personal stories. I began to feel the weight of what it means to be a teacher. Each new student concern felt like a few more pounds to carry as my professor’s voice echoed in my ears again and again.

Your student is experiencing parental abuse at home? You must care for the student as a whole person. Your student’s family cannot afford to buy groceries or pay the heating bill? You must care for the student as a whole person. Your student is being bullied and is struggling with insecurity? You must care for the student as a whole person. Your student is battling anxiety and depression? You must care for the student as a whole person. Your student is struggling with a learning disability? You must care for the student as a whole person.

I had never taken being a teacher lightly, but this time made me much more aware of how meaningful teaching is. This understanding of an educator’s role continued to deepen in my courses throughout my sophomore year.

However, at the same time as this new understanding of how I wanted to live my life was developing, I began to question my passion for education. I felt both deeply inspired and completely lost. I told constantly told others how excited I was to be a teacher, but the more I said it, the less I meant it.

I felt like a forged painting in an expensive art gallery. I appeared authentic from the outside, but if you looked too closely, you might notice that I was not like the others. I feared others calling out my deteriorating confidence and direction. My dreams felt like a mix of half-truths and complexities.

The following months lent me no solace. The summer of 2023 turned into a spiral of self-doubt and utter confusion.  I was overwhelmed by my own questions. I was supposed to love being a teacher. I loved my students. I loved my classmates and professors.  This would be a meaningful way to spend my life. Why did it all still feel so unavoidably wrong? Not even my best days in the classroom felt like what I thought they would. I was drained, anxious, and disappointed in myself. 

Finally, on a quiet afternoon in August, it got to be too much. I found myself tucked into the pink checkered duvet covers of the guest room in the back corner of my home, soft sunlight streaming onto me through the half-open gray curtains. Mascara streaked my face as tears poured down my cheeks. Here, in this hideaway, I finally let out all my questions, dumping months of anxiety onto the feet of Jesus.

I told Him how convinced I had become in the last two years that my life had to serve others and glorify Him. If I was not going to spend my life caring for students, I wanted to at least spend my life caring for someone.

I quickly felt prompted by Him to open my laptop and begin google searching. Many scrolls later, I somehow found myself staring at an open advocacy writing position at a missions organization I had dreamed of working at for years. My heart jumped. I still do not know how I got to this site, but the message was clear. The Lord was challenging me to let go of what I had expected for my life in exchange for what He had planned for my life. The purpose was the same, but it was time for the avenue to change.

I leaned into this draw to writing and sent a major-change request form to my student counselor that very afternoon. Instead of finishing my education degree, I switched to an entirely new program, Professional Writing for New Media. I began my third year at GCU ready to excited for my new path, and I was not disappointed. Supportive professors, kind classmates, and personal growth have shaped this last year and a half of discovering a new side of who I am and who I want to become.

I will change directions many more times in my life. I will have many more mascara moments under pink checkered duvet covers. I do not have it all figured out yet. Even so, I am starting my post-graduation life with a different understanding of what it means to “find your purpose.” I think I have even done some finding myself.  

I am purposed for something higher. This gives me peace. 

I am purposed to serve His people. This brings me hope.

I am purposed for His glory. This drives me forward.

I am purposed for Him. A purpose I will never change my mind on.