A little over three years ago, my husband told me to find a job I could get passionate about. I'd been a mental health counselor for seventeen years, owned a Christian bookstore for five and now I was giving real estate a whirl--but hated it.
"I want to write," I said, knowing as soon as the words left my mouth that I sounded as delusional as some of my ex-clients.
"Then do it."
If you look in my closet, you'll find a stack of diaries dating back to when I turned thirteen. My mother gave me my first five-year one that Christmas. Since then I've journaled every major and not-so-major event in my life.
But had I found my passion?
When I handed in my resignation from my counseling job--I counted down the days. When I sold the Christian bookstore, I knew it was time to move on. But if someone told me I could never write again--it would crush me.
Have you found your passion?
Or are you like I was--dabbling in the diaries--but afraid to speak the words, "I want to be a writer."
I hope today is your day.