I am young and I am clumsy.

I suddenly find myself very happy with my job. This was not expected.

I baked in my cousin’s café in Colorado after college, and I loved it. Even though I struggled in my growing up that year, the season held joy, and now I understand well the necessity of that battle for maturity. While my cinnamon rolls were rising, peace began to take root in my soul. It was right to leave that place when I did, but in the years between then and now, joy in my work has not been something I’ve experienced much.

To be frank, this town where I live is not my favorite. It’s small—which I don’t mind so much, except that most residents are college students or retirees. It’s charming, and it is lonely. However, I happily stay late at work, accomplishing more in the quiet of shared space when others have returned to their families. When I pack up my things at the conclusion of the workday, I feel satisfaction. As I walk to my car, weary of high heels by now, I am content in the freedom my night holds. I can go to the gym, stop for take-out or a movie. I could pick up a new book, or spend time at home brainstorming creative ideas for tomorrow’s day in the office. I might bake cinnamon rolls, throwing flour all over my inadequate kitchen, and leaving the dishes for the next day. I can stop over at a friend’s house, or meet someone for coffee, enjoying long stretches of conversation without care for the late hour.

I speak often of the seasonality of life, the way relationships ebb and flow with changes in circumstance, but I have failed to apply this basic life framework to my vocation. The problem is, I’ve long espoused the belief that my greatest purpose is to be a wife and mother. Regardless of what else I do before/after/during that time, I’ve believed that will be the most meaningful part of my life. Even as I have maintained that I have the right and ability to “be more” than a homemaker, I have approached my work as a way to kill some time, make some money, pay some bills. Sure, I’m decently good at what I do. I’m using gifts God gave me, but not like I will when I’m a wife and mom… at least, that’s what I’ve been telling myself.

But that’s an awfully limited perspective. As I said in my last post, I believe God is vast. I believe he puts infinite God-dreams into finite human hearts. As the meaning I find in my work has grown, so has my understanding of seasons. There is purpose in this season of work, and it speaks to bigger dreams than I’m able to imagine.

For one, I’m learning a lot about myself within my interactions with coworkers. I am humbled, often (like yesterday when I over-simplified an explanation in a pretty big-deal meeting and thus misrepresented the entire mission of one our projects…in front of its director and VP). I’m listening more. I’ve picked up on cues between rivals and discovered how to maintain peace.

Yet, I am young and I am clumsy. I misstep. I push forward. I’ve found that this season isn’t just about my own growth. I am a piece of a changing organization. I fight every single day for new approaches I believe will work—are working, even now. This moment in history is the precise turn of the clock in which my work and my attitude towards that work fit, just exactly right, into the puzzle of my company.

So my point, dear friends, is to keep your heart open. Don’t think you know everything. Don’t believe you’ve got it all figured out. We’re all in process, you see. We’re all growing and changing and showing up into stories we never expected, only to find ourselves playing roles and reading lines we hadn’t practiced. So we improvise, and the words might come out wrong, and the cadence will be off. The comic timing could be 3 seconds too late and the wardrobe might malfunction (note: leggings are not pants!), but the whole point is, you’re here. You’re on the stage of your life and you’re playing your part, however awkward. Dance to the symphony, even—and especially—when it’s not what you planned.