The Space between Dreams and Reality.

I find myself in the tense space between dreams and practicality.  I am wrestling with living out a “calling” and doing what is necessary for my family.

I often asked others, “If money were a non-factor, what would you do with your life?”  This question is aimed to help in searching out one’s calling, giftedness, and identity.  My answer:  write, have deep conversations about things that really matter, help people heal, and tend a few acres of land.  Of course, my dream includes having my family around me, hiking in the woods, and helping my children grow into mature, compassionate, and thoughtful adults.  In my mind, it sounds like a perfect life.

My husband also has a dream of having some land around him.  We contacted a realtor and started looking at some options.  There are land and houses to be had within our budget, but we started assessing what we would trade off.  We have a great house, and we have put a lot of work into it – planted trees, dug a large garden, built on a porch that has led to quiet times of coffee drinking and intimate conversations.  We have painted the walls, hung the art.  We have made it more than a house, it is our home.  And we have neighbors (really nice neighbors who catch salmon in Lake Michigan and then share it with us!)  We have community around us.  We can walk to several parks and the local Farmer’s Market.  We are seven minutes from church and the kids’ school.  In the end, we have decided to love what we have and put the dream of land on hold.  And with this decision, I have let go of the perceived bliss I would experience out on a tractor and collecting eggs from the hen house.

My other dreams – to write, have deep conversations, and helping people heal, they are still with me.  I continue to feel called to find a way to use my gifts and talents, to share my rambling thoughts and insights with the world around me, but I struggle with the practicality of it.  I lack the self-discipline to enforce my own deadlines and to follow-through on the less pleasant aspects of work.  Mix that with tendencies toward dysthymia, and we have a perfect set up for procrastination and avoidance.  So marketing and self-promotion fall to the bottom or the list.  I would rather scrub 1000 toilets.  Give me the job, and I will give it 110%; ask me to sell my skills and I will fail miserably.  It is hard to grow a business if I remain a wallflower.

There is a lot of insecurity in private practice.  It typically slows in the summer – for me, it is even slower because much of my work is working a school contract and with families who go on vacations.  The insecurity wears on me – I get cranky and irritable.  My grumps are really a covering of my fears about money and my self-doubt that my writing is worth reading and therapy skills are actually useful.  We live in a utilitarian culture.  I see what I do as an art; myself as an artist.  We are the first to be cut from the budget.  Forbes listed us as the worst paying Master’s degrees.  My advisor in my doctoral program referred to me as a dying breed.  When what I want to do is really about a state of being, well, quite frankly it does not pay.  We tend not to value aesthetics and deep thinking.  We are content to wade in the shallow water, talk about Tom and Katie’s divorce, and escape into entertainment rather than tread in the deep waters of the unknown.   

There are those of us who are artists, philosophers, mystics, and contemplatives.  There are others I know who also find companionships reading great literature, listening to the poetic sounds of Joni Mitchell, and meditating on the Psalms and teachings of the Saints.   We exist, but this is not a day job for most.

I am a terrible singer – my kids are young enough not to notice how bad I butcher “You are my Sunshine,” but they will soon figure out that mommy cannot carry a tune too far in a bucket.  One of my suitemates in college, who happened to be a music major, would tell me “Don’t quit your day job.”  I find myself wondering if my artist life is equivalent to my singing – it is fun, I like it, but I shouldn’t risk quitting my day job for it.

I find myself pondering my current “day job.”  It is living out my dreams and in line with what I believe to be my calling, but I wonder just how “practical” it really is.  Don’t worry, I have no plans to quit being a therapist, or to cease writing, or to stop having meaningful conversations.  But I am wrestling with loosening up my grip on them -- to open myself up to new possibilities of integrating something more practical with the dreamer and artist within me.    And a part of me wonders if this is a lack of faith in God’s provision and a lack of confidence that I can make my dreams come true.  At what point do we really know?  Where is that balance between trusting that what we cannot see and doing what we need to do to have stronger sense of security and sustainability?   

Since I have shared this much, I will share the rest.  While I still wrestle with the question, I have started having conversations with a University to start an accelerated Bachelor’s in Nursing.  It is health and healing; it is taking care of people; it is a practical skill and useful trade.  I love school and come from a long line of medical professionals.  I have the support of my family to take this step.  I keep trying to come up with a good reason why I should not take this leap, and from a practical standpoint, I find none.  The dreamer in me wonders if I am doing the artist in me a disservice by getting a “day job.”  Doors are opening, and I continue to press forward – and I am excited at the thought of being back in school.  Yes, for those who know me, I am a professional student.  These last three years are the longest I have been out of the classroom.

As always, I am curious about your thoughts.  How do you balance the practical with living out your calling and dreams?  When is it okay to quit your day job?  When do you let go of dreams and get a "real job?"