One Life To Live

Having absolutely nothing to say is far worse than having writer's block, at least for me. My last post was November 14 and I still have nothing to write about. The blessings that are in my life now remain constant and I hold each and every one close to my heart. My husband, the man that I have come to depend on so much, is my biggest blessing. Even today, as I sit here with a heating pad on my stomach trying to abate the cramps, he does everything to take care of me. He fixes breakfast and does whatever he thinks would make me most comfortable. It might make me feel better if I could say he only does that when I'm not feeling well, but that's not the truth. He always takes care of me. More so, I think, than I take care of him.
My job is another blessing. I really enjoy what I'm doing and, for the most part, I enjoy where I'm doing it. I have learned so much in the past three months about this profession and I'm truly happy. But there is a part of me that misses teaching. A part that misses the dream of teaching Shakespeare in a college setting. A small part that blames the rest of me for being content in what I'm doing now. Will I ever be completely OK with not following that dream and teaching? Will the job that I'm in now, that I love doing, ever be enough?
I am one of those people who had several "dream" jobs. I wanted to be an actress -- who didn't? I wanted to go into the Coast Guard. I wanted to be a Marine Biologist. I wanted to be a Vet. I wanted to be a pediatrician. I wanted to be a nurse. I wanted to be in Advertising and live in New York City. I wanted to teach Shakespeare at Boston University. No ONE profession ever seemed perfect for me. Being an actress appealed because I could do all of those things, but I didn't want to give up my privacy.
I work hard to learn every aspect about my job that I can and I enjoy it. It encompasses virtually everything I loved to -- read, write, and research. Still, I feel a slight tinge every once in a while when I pass a high school or a university. I think "what if." Then I remember that thinking 'what if' does nothing but aggravate me because it's pointless to think about the 'what ifs' in the world. We have one chance to do this. When our time is up, it's done.
I'm writing a story now about a woman who gets a second chance to change her life. A woman who, like me, enjoys her career, but still ponders on what could have been. She's probably the one character that I've invented who's more like me than I realized. Her situation is nothing like mine, but the way she thinks and the way she feels -- one would think I was writing my autobiography.
Am I happy with my life? No doubt I am. Would I do anything differently? I'd be lying if I said no. Do I still dream? I'll die dreaming. Would I walk a different path? Only if God directed me there.
I thank God everyday for my husband, my family, my career -- my life. I pray for His guidance and His direct will to be done. I may not know what the future holds, but I know who holds the future and I put my trust in that. No one's life is ever perfect, but if God's happy, then I'm happy.