People don’t always want their dreams to come true. Sometimes we just want them to stay dreams. I recognized this truth when I analyzed my conflicting feelings after being faced with yet another decision — I was recalled to take a part-time position at Crook County. I would teach English to high schoolers.

Taking the position would be so easy to do. I’d be paid well. It is half-time … so I could homeschool the kids in the morning and be done at 3:30 p.m. in the afternoons. It’s in an area that we know and love, among friends and family. It’s steady income. We won’t have to wonder what we’re going to do next month. It offers a simple answer to so many desires in my heart.

But why do I sense the presence of temptation? Why does it seem to be a sellout? Why do I distrust it so much? Am I overthinking it? Am I being a silly school-girl to follow my dreams so purely — to not allow them to be sullied by a dose of real life?

A year ago, I would have snapped up this position. But I’ve learned to choose carefully between good and my dream. I recognize the pattern that good obliterates dreams. A half-time job is good. Teaching English to high schoolers is good. But the adventure would be forced into two weeks at Christmas and the summer. Life is no longer an adventure — we’re just going on a vacation.

As the writer of my life, I would edit out the entire year that I teach part-time or summarize it in a few explanatory paragraphs to explain where I’d been before the real adventure began.

After turning down a position in the place that I live that is not asking too much of me, I no longer can rely on excuses for my unemployment. I’ve chosen this path. I am no longer a victim of circumstance. I’ve crossed the Rubicon. I don’t want to teach. I’m going to write. I’m no longer unemployed. I’m a freelance writer.

I didn’t come to this decision lightly.

Paul and I walked miles mulling it over together. I’m no longer willing to compromise. I don’t want to teach. I want to write. I’m going to write. I’m writing. I’m a writer.

Next week, I’ll interview an artist who is continuing his art through Parkinson’s disease. One of the perks is an overnight stay where we can view the fossil bed monument — which I think could segway into another story.

I’ve turned down one job. I’m beginning another.

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