When I grow up

About a month ago my friend Mina sent me a card in the mail. She is so fabulous that way. She always sends birthday cards, Christmas cards, We moved and here is our new address cards. I send…no cards. No, I send my immediate family cards a week or two late. I send a few friends birthday cards, but not with any regularity. Ok, my poor correspondance habits is NOT the point of my post.

The point is the card she sent me.

Isn’t it great? On the inside she wrote that the card made her think of me. I love love love this card. It’s so….me. Or…it was. A few years ago, prior to starting my current job, If someone had asked me “what do you want to do with the rest of you life” my honest answer was “Save the world.” Really. Not in an eco-freak way (although I have more of those tendencies now) but in a make-it-a-better-place-by-filling-it-with-love-and-sparkles for everyone kind of way. Really I mean helping people, most specifically working with teens.

And, I’m sad to report, that I have sort have lost sight of that dream.
I like my job, I really do. But I don’t love it. I just don’t. I want to, I want to love it so much that I put my heart and soul into it everyday. But I don’t.
So where does that leave me? I can’t stand the idea of only liking my job for the next 40 years. I do realize that even liking my job is a big step up from loathing one’s job, which I know some people do. But I don’t want to like my job. I want to love it, and I still want to save the world—while paying my bills.

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