First of all, y’all should know that I had to look like a complete arsehole to get this shot.

Second of all, I have written and re-written this particular post at least half a dozen times.  The final version – the one you’re reading – was written on my phone, one-thumb typing, while this seagull sat and stared at me.  Just goes to show: you can’t force the writing.  Sometimes, it just has to come to you.  Like ocean fowl.

Have you ever read Jonathan Livingston Seagull, by Richard Bach?  It may very well be my favorite book of all time.  Mostly because it’s a powerful story of grit and faith and rising above, and partially because it packs a heavy life punch in a staggeringly short 112 pages.  I’d forgotten about it, until Mr. Seagull here joined my moment of solitude on the beach.

Did you know that for most of my career in education, I wondered what I wanted to be when I grew up?  I know that sounds ridiculous.  In high school, my first career goal was to be “the CEO of a big company”.  I had a university picked out to prepare me and everything.  I even sought out some scholarships.  But a teacher stepped in and said, “I think you’d be a great teacher.”  So here I am, looking back on 13 years in Johnston County Public Schools.

I’ve served a number of roles, but most can be summarized with the following, although out of order:

-Middle School Math Teacher

-Curriculum Coach

-Data Analysis Specialist

-Director of Evaluation & Coaching

-JCPS Teacher of the Year

-Self-Proclaimed Director of Transparency

No matter the role, my job has always revolved around helping students, teachers, principals, and district leaders navigate the scary riptides of data.  From breaking down numbers, helping others understand the numbers, and most importantly, how to use the numbers, coaching others through data has really been my “niche” from the beginning.  All with no other agenda than my standing, “here to serve”.

For a time, Chris thought my skill set would make me a great financial advisor.  And recruited me.  But our competitive spirits made us laugh the idea off; the career change into his world would come at the cost of our marriage.

I’ve pondered this whole scenario a lot.  Mostly, I’ve wondered what the purpose of all of this was – widowhood being at the top of that list.  What was it all for?  How could I have experienced this much life?  How could I have gone through this much grief and trial, and developed this much grit, for it not to be used for a bigger purpose?  Am I supposed to let fate keep forging my path?  Or should I be doing something with it – forging my path for myself?

It appears the answer has been pretty gritty too.

More have recruited me.  But have given me space to “level out”, figure myself out a bit, and draw my own conclusions, in my own time.

I’ve questioned this decision for a couple of years now.  Debated it.  Ran from it.  Ignored it.  Poked and prodded at it.  Ignored it again.  Until I was sure it was the right decision for me.

Today, I stand (okay… sit, on the beach, with Mr. Seagull), convicted, determined, and damn near resolute.

To take the leap, and build the life that I want.

And I’m going to Edward Jones to become a financial advisor myself.

To fill a hole in the world I’ve found myself unexpectedly being able to fill – to support and advise as someone who has been there.  Who has been in the place of “the unexpected happened… what now?”

In the same region Chris was an advisor.  The same region we called family.  And in the same region that created an award in his honor:  the “Here to Serve” award.

I could choose to keep ignoring these things.  I could keep working in public education, where I’m comfortable.

But I’ve never been one to thrive where it’s “comfortable”.

Which brings me to the hardest part of this decision:  Leaving the people I’ve grown the most comfortable with in JCPS.  There are friendships within the walls of Central Office, Clayton Middle, and the schools of Johnston County that have lasted the tests of time, grief, lunacy, meetings, pendulum swings, road trips, meetings, and bad karaoke.  There are friends and leaders who have lifted me up and done more for me than I ever dreamed even deserving, never mind receiving.  I have the courage, grit, passion, wrinkles, tolerance, liver damage, wit, and laugh lines I have today because of the people I’ve worked with in JCPS.  And no amount of distance or time can break the friendship bonds forged in the fires of public education.  Especially not birch friends.

So yes, friends.  I’m leaving public education.  I’m leaving the place that I love for another place that I love.  I’m leaving one family to join another.

You may be wondering what John thinks of this.  Well, being the super human that he is, his concern lies in one and only one arena:  my happiness.  As one of my loudest (and wittiest) cheerleaders, he’s even offered to be my study buddy.  Honeybadger is pretty great like that.

If you’re seeking more clarity, here it is:  FORTUNE ranks Edward Jones No. 5 in their 100 Best Companies to Work For, Top 5 Places for Women to Work, and Top 30 Training Programs according to Training magazine.  It’s a great family, but also a great company culture –  that’s how they attract more great people.  And I’m pretty darn excited that they want me too.

I start in September.

So there it is, friends.  As one friend put it, “It’s like you’re coming full circle.”  Indeed.  One massive, heart-wrenching, tumultuous, roller-coaster of a circle.  The road ahead is probably difficult.  But me and difficult have become good friends, and this time I’ll choose to face it.

Life took something away from me.  It tore down my castle, knocked off my crown, took away my princess status, and left me with nothing but rubble.  And an army of supporters.

Doesn’t life do that to us all eventually?

The trick is to know you always have a choice.   We can choose to stare at the rubble, or rebuild from it.  With the army.

Life tore down my castle.  So I chose Option 2.

I spent the last few years figuring out me.  Unconsciously, I guess I’ve been using my time to expand my skill sets, stock my tool belt, and establish my internal compass of grit.

So I can rebuild my castle myself.

 

With my own life truth in hand.  And my mission built from my truth.

 

Because I am entirely up to me.

 

And I am here to serve.