Called, Curious, and Completely Unsure

When I started university last fall I thought I knew exactly who I was.

Not in an arrogant way. Just in the way that most adults eventually settle into a sense of themselves. At 41 years old, I thought I had a pretty good handle on my strengths and limitations. After all, I've been parenting teenagers and they tell you ALL the things you're doing wrong... giving lots of suggestions for growth and improvements ;)

I figured I had a good idea what it would look like to be a university student, even though I'd never actually been one. I assumed most of the learning would happen in the classroom, and that if I worked hard enough, I'd eventually arrive at some place of confidence where I felt like I belonged.

That isn't quite what happened.

If I'm honest, one of the very first things I learned within weeks of starting was that this is muuuuch harder than I expected, not because the material is impossible, but because life doesn't stop when you're a mature student. Kids still need rides. Laundry still needs to be folded, dinner still needs to be made, and there are still field trips, appointments, work obligations, and all the little things that keep a household running. Never mind church commitments and maintaining a profitable photography business. School didn't get added to an empty life, it got added to an already full one.

There have been moments where I've been keeping track of my own deadlines while helping my kids remember theirs, while also arranging rides and trying to remember whether I switched the laundry over. I've tried to study while mentally running through grocery lists, appointments, and everything else that needed my attention that day. More than once I've stared at a deadline and wondered whether I had taken on too much. To be honest, that's been an almost everyday occurrence. I try to study during the day while the kids are in school, but there have been times when I've closed my office door knowing my family was on the other side of it. Most of the time I feel grateful for the opportunity to learn, but there are moments when I wonder whether I'm doing the right thing, or whether I'm asking too much of the people I love in the process.

I've also learned that courage doesn't feel the way I thought it would. I always assumed confidence was the precursor to courage, or at least the thing that propelled it forward. I thought I'd eventually reach a point where I felt capable, prepared, and sure of myself, and then I'd move forward. Maybe that still comes in later years, but I've spent much of this year doubting myself and moving forward anyway. I've questioned whether I'm smart enough, whether I belong, whether I started this too late, and whether all of this effort will ultimately be worth it. And the funny thing is that none of these doubts have actually stopped me from moving forward. They've just become annoyingly constant companions on the journey.

Through every assignment, every deadline, every late night, and every emotional spiral about whether I can actually do this, my husband has absorbed more of the impact than anyone else. He's listened to my doubts more times than I can count, and somehow he never seems nearly as concerned about my ability to succeed as I am. There have been many a night when I was convinced I was in over my head and he never seemed worried at all, offering encouragement and tangible help along the way. Having someone believe in me when I struggle to believe in myself while also offering to lessen my load has been one of the greatest gifts of this entire experience. God has blessed me immensely through my marriage, and I don't think I could write honestly about this year without acknowledging that.

As this first year wraps up, I've become increasingly aware of how often I find myself envying women whose kids are all in school, who aren't studying or working, and who aren't still trying to figure out what they want to be when they grow up at 41 years old. I look at them and think, "That looks really nice." Not because I think they're lazy or unmotivated but because they seem content with where they are, while I keep feeling pulled toward something I can't fully explain.

To simply enjoy the life I've already built without constantly asking what else God might have planned for me. To have more empty space in my days. To go hiking or thrifting on a sunny afternoon because I feel like it. To read a book without feeling guilty that I should be studying. To live with a little more margin and a lot less wondering.

And if I'm honest, part of me reaaaally wants that life.

But then when I sit back and actually imagine it, another part of me pushes back because I know I wouldn't stay content there for very long. I'd wonder if there was something more I was supposed to be doing. Not because what I already have isn't enough, but because I've always felt drawn toward growth, learning, and understanding.

The truth is, I often feel pulled in two directions.

Part of me is already tired and I'm only a year in. I wonder if I'll have the stamina to complete 5 (6?) more years of this. If I'll be able to meet all the deadlines, if I'll burn out from trying to squeeze school into a life that was already full before I ever enrolled in my first class.

There are days when I wonder what all of this will cost my family, and whether I'm taking more from them than I'm giving back. I wonder what my kids will remember about these years. Will they remember that Mom went back to school, or simply that I was busy? I don't know the answer to that, but it's part of what makes this journey feel heavy at times.

And then on the flip side there are other days when I'm sitting in class, or reading something fascinating, or having a conversation about people and human behavior, and I can feel something in me come alive. Days when I can see the possibility of who I might become and where God might be leading me, even if I can't quite make out the whole path yet.

This last semester has felt particularly confusing. I'm SO looking forward to a summer break from my studies, while simultaneously looking ahead to the classes I'll take next fall.

I guess that's the tension I've been describing this whole time.

I'm tired, but I'm excited. Ready for a break, but not ready to be done.

I've spent a lot of time this year wondering whether it's wise to keep going when life is already full.

Why add deadlines, exams, and stress to a season that already feels stretched thin?

Why does the thought of quitting make me more anxious than the thought of continuing?

I don't know if it's passion, or purpose, or a calling.

What I do know is that I've always been drawn to people and their stories. I've spent years asking questions about pain, healing, identity, resilience, and the ways our experiences shape who we become. Some of those questions were born from trying to understand my own story, while others came from watching people I love walk through difficult things. I've seen firsthand how deeply our experiences shape us, for better and for worse, and over the years I've developed a particular tenderness for people who are struggling.

The more life I experience, the more convinced I become that people make sense when you understand what they've lived through. And maybe that's why this path keeps pulling me forward.

It's not just that I want to understand people. I want people to experience healing and wholeness. I want families and individuals to find peace. If there is any thread that seems to run through all of this, I think that's it. Maybe it's compassion. Maybe it's discernment. Maybe it's simply the result of my own journey. Whatever it is, I want to steward it well. And that's become one of my barometers for decision making.

The truth is, I still don't know exactly where all of this is leading. I don't know what doors God will open, or which ones He'll close. I worry about spending years and finances working toward counselling only to discover it isn't what I thought it would be.

I don't think people talk enough about that part of pursuing a dream.

And so... the greatest lesson of all has been learning to trust God with things I can't yet see. To step out in faith, even when I'm not sure.

While I still have far more questions than answers, I'm beginning to trust that I don't need to have the whole path figured out before I take the next step.

God already does.

Char ♡

(cover photo by Alanna Danae Photography, edited by me)