Where Do I Go From Here?

My favorite television series of all time is "West Wing." When a situation was resolved, President Jed Bartlet would ask, "What's next?" It was a way to shift gears. It was time to move on. He made an immediate request of his staff to tell him what was next.

In Oprah's magazine "O" she has a column each month called "Here We Go." She introduces the theme of the issue, shares a tidbit of background, and highlights articles in that issue. Oprah lays the groundwork and the reader takes it from there.

First of all, I want to ask "what's next?" and have the universe give me an immediate answer. I have threatened to buy a neon sign that flashes OPEN so that the powers-that-be know I'm waiting for direction. I would love to have someone tell me what to do next. So far, no luck.

Secondly, I have been here before at this precipice of change so I know what it feels like to say "here I go" and jump. It's always scary in the beginning and worth it in the end.

In February 1986 I started counseling. It was a compromise I made between being hospitalized and taking lithium, neither of which was okay with me, depressed or not. I tackled my issues from the first session, and the result was that I got healthy. I had started counseling to save my marriage and keep my kids. I stayed with it because I found out I was worth the trouble. Life got good again. Ken and I bought a minivan; then we had another child; then I returned to college.

In 1993 Ken and I came to an impasse in our marriage. We could not agree on anything, we did not like each other, and we were angry. For the first and last time we tried couple's counseling, which opened the door for communication but did not resolve anything. Then we waited. We waited for months - it was a long year. Then slowly things started to shift and we began to see ourselves and each other with new eyes. Ken had a job he liked that took a lot of his attention and energy. I wanted a full-time teaching job and worried about what that meant for my family. In the beginning we stayed together because we didn't know what else to do. In the end we built a relationship that survives the changes that are part of life.

I started teaching full time in the fall of 1994. Again, be careful what you ask for because you might get it. I found the situation so stressful that by mid-October my neck was so stiff that I couldn't turn my head. Desperate, I started seeing a massage therapist, an act of grace that saved me. She gave my body, mind, and spirit the support I needed to do what I had to do. Things began to shift. An opportunity for a church retreat presented itself. Then I started talking with the interim minister, who taught me about forgiveness and introduced the idea of living in the moment. I was able to accept the job situation I was in and let go of my expectations. Instead of losing everything, I found my voice.

I started graduate school in January 1998 because I needed to find people to share ideas about teaching. I left one job and took another that, unbeknownst to me, would provide the basis for my master's thesis. Then I had a dream year of team teaching; a year of homeschooling my youngest; and a year of teaching that convinced me I could not change anything outside my own classroom. I worked for a year in an alternative community school. And then I knew it was time for me to leave the field of education.

All of these transitions have been difficult. The answers did not come from my mind but from my heart. I often felt compelled to take the next step without knowing why or where the idea had come from. The risk was always worth it.

So with this history, I ask "what's next?" And with faith that things will work out, I say "here I go."