Remember Your Why
Life was hard. Money was short. And sleep was shorter still.
Discouragement walked with me like a rock in my shoe. I’d made it to my junior year of college, but it felt like I’d need the effort of swimming the English Channel to earn that cap and gown signaling I was qualified to teach.
Nobody knew, but for the first time in my life, I considered quitting. One day, I’d just walk right out the door and never come back. That was my brilliant plan. And it scared me. . . because I was serious.
Not that I’d never wanted to throw in the towel before, but growing up in the Anderstrom family we weren’t allowed to quit. If we started something, we saw it through to completion. Didn’t mean we had to do it next time around, but we kept at it, best we could, until the last whistle or bell or whatever signaled the end. Actually, I could kiss my parents’ feet for instilling that principle into me, but maybe that’s why the thoughts dominating my waking moments paralyzed me.
Getting to class felt like trudging through quicksand. My desire to earn a teaching degree was thrown out with the cafeteria mystery meat.
Then one day, I entered Dr Schaefer’s Education Seminar class. I forced a pleasant expression and willed my eyelids open as I straightened my books and readied my pencil. How much longer could I keep up this charade? I didn’t know. A pull toward the exit sign grew with every shallow breath.
And that’s when I noticed it.
On the chalkboard Dr. Schaffer had written a quote. “Those with purpose, learn.”
Reading those words, I sat up. My pulse quickened and my eyes opened wider.
I’d always known I wanted to be a teacher. If I wasn’t playing house or writing poems, I’d rope my little bro into playing school with me. Before he ventured off to kindergarten, I accidentally taught him to read. Eventually his young self
wised-up to what playing school meant, and he ditched pretend school for more fun stuff like pretend football championships.
No worries. My dolls and stuffed animals placed in chairs around our basement made excellent students. I loved the click of grown-up high-heels on the basement tile as I passed out my fake lessons and made-up tests to my surprisingly obedient class.
I outgrew the dolls, but I never stopped envisioning grand ideas of my future profession. My class—Lord help me—wouldn’t be the stiff and scary environment my second-grade teacher provided. I’d actually enjoy the kids. Laughing and smiles would be totally acceptable in our time together. We’d learn in creative ways that didn’t fit in a box. But most of all, I wanted to look every student in the eye and embrace them for the way God had wired them. And then do my best to draw out their gifts.
I couldn’t wait.
In those few seconds after reading that quote all of these visions flashed before me. How could I become a teacher if I didn’t finish school? Suddenly my will charged back. Yes! I did have a purpose. Therefore, I must learn.
How does one simple sentence grab someone’s back collar and jerk her from the exit gate to the work entrance?
Simple really.
That day, I remembered my “why.”
Those words worked like shock paddles to my will. I was never the same again.
Please don’t read another word until you watch this short video. Start watching at 1:00 and see if you see what I saw . . . https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LZe5y2D60YU
My friend, remembering your “why” makes all the difference.
Jesus remembered His. “Looking unto Jesus the Author and Finisher of our faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame and is set down at the right hand of the throne of God.” Hebrews 12:2
The other day my friend Robin said, “We must never forget our why.”
So. In your hard or boring or frustrating task, what is your “why” today? Why do you do what you do?
Hang in there friend! And remember: when you recall your why, you can face any what.
xoxo
Hope & Glory to you!
