Confirmed....

So, while all this "change" has been rumbling through me, one thing I did do was ask God to confirm in me my writing/editing abilities--- to, if it's his will that I seek to pursue that over these other things-- ensure that it was, indeed, His Holy Will and best for me.

When Peter and I were watching "The Devil Wears Prada" last night (yes, I got him to watch a chick flick. I have no idea how it happened, it was actually his idea!)a couple things kept running through my mind.
The first was how much I missed living in the city. I never watch movies anymore (seriously! It's been over a year!) but when I do see a typical "city scene" I realize that for all my fantasizing about the easy life in the Country, I was born for the city and it's something I really MISS! The second thing was that... as I said earlier, I was supposed to be writing.

I remember my first journalism class. It was an accident-- I was taking it because I REALLY didn't want to take this other lit class. I walked in and sat down and kinda laughed at the people around me. None of them seemed like the types of people I'd be likely to hang out or connect with. The teacher came in and started talking about journalism, and I was kinda like... yeah yeah yeah. I had always imagined I'd be a novelist or something. Never a journalist.
Then we had our first writing assignment and I realized that journalism was about tight writing--- it was about removing everything "wordy" and "flowery" and "poetic" and just laying out the facts in a manner that was straight-forward and clean-cut. At first, I hated it. I took personal offense at the editing jobs my teacher did.

But when I turned in my first assignment and she returned it to me with a big beautiful "A" and a note to stick around and talk to her in her office. In her office, she suggested that I join the college paper, and something about it seemed like a good idea. I did, and it was like, all of a sudden, all I could think about was the news. It was the first time I ever felt like I actually FIT somewhere, effortlessly, and the first time I felt like I was good at something without having to work like crazy. I was just good at it, and I liked it. I was so proud and happy walking around with my little reporter's notebook and sharp pencils, catching everything. I LOVED to sit in on council meetings. I was amazed at every little issue that came up.

Years later, as I sit here, I can still conjure up that excitement. It's one of the reasons that the movie we were watching was so compelling. It made me think of a certain friend of mine, a girl we'll call Ms. Fabulous.
When I was editor in chief of the paper, she worked for me. I remember her first day-- she told us she was sure that she could be a great journalist because she had taken numerous english courses and her last english prof had had her write 70 page papers every other week! We laughed because we knew that to be a good journalist, you had to write tight and short. She was adorable, beautiful, and totally enthusiastic. She was fabulous! Combine that with the fact that she was a good little Christian girl and I had "just been saved," and we became fast friends.

Over the course of our time together, she grew to be a fast, efficient, and powerful go-getter with gloriously REAL writing skills. It was no surprise to me when she got a job at CBS' "60 minutes" and jetted off to New York. I was so proud of her-- and more than a little jealous. I had long since chosen my own path-- settling into married life here in Fayettenam after a failed start in the US Army with an unexpected pregnancy in the works. (An Army which I had joined partially to get the combat field experience necessary to make me a good candidate for a middle eastern correspondant position.)

From then on, as I grew increasingly dissatisfied and finally became resigned to my "new life," I periodically heard fabulous tales of travel, excitement and adventure from Ms. Fabulous, and though I was thrilled for her, my heart always gave a little tug. That could be me if I had made better choices!

As we watched The Devil Wears Prada, my thoughts turned to her life and dreams and I pondered what being in her shoes would actually be like.... giving into the feeling that somehow she had totally succeeded where I had failed and that in her successes was a glory I would never know. I was jealous!

The feeling stuck with me through most of the next day--fanning into a lunch date with a friend in which I griped about the changes I needed to make and the frustration I was experiencing with my life.

So imagine my surprise (and the tears that sprang forth!) when I checked my email upon returning and found an email resting in my inbox from Ms Fabulous herself! I rarely hear from her other than a passing hug and kiss on myspace or facebook these days, so this was NOT a common occurence. And in the email, she asked me if I could please edit a job request letter she was sending out for a company she really wanted to get her foot into, citing:
"but just would loooove your fabulous editorial skills to spice it up and make sure I'm not leaving anything out/saying too much..."


Was I touched that she thought of me? Absolutely. But more importantly, I felt so confirmed--- it was as if God Himself had sent me an email that read: " I made you a writer. This is what you're good at. And I'm not afraid to use the one person who you admire most to let you know."

She probably has no idea how much that meant to me. And I probably did a terrible job of editing her letter, although I gave it everything I had to offer on such short notice and with all my "evening" sickness. The last time I edited anything it was a letter to gripe at my pastor about something, and the only thing I wrote this week was block letters to teach my kids how to spell their names. The exercise was also painful because it reminded me of how amazing her life is and how my own letter would pale in comparison.

But even so, for just a minute, I felt revived-- like God had breathed afresh into my life that even though there are no second chances, He can always make good those places where we are faced with a vacuous void of nothing... And He can always fill us when that emptiness threatens to cave in our hearts.

Will I ever BE that journalist I dreamed of... reporting on the Iraqi war in knee high pink uggboots and a camo miniskirt, asking the tough questions to all the key players? No. No way.

But just for a second there--- I got a glimmer of hope.