For as long as I knew it was a possibility having a full time, year round job working at camp was my career goal. When I first set off to university with that goal in mind I had visions of returning to the camp I grew up at making some changes and helping it grow to it's full potential. Things changed pretty quickly, as they often do when church politics and wills get involved, and so I found myself transplanted to a place I'd never planned on planting myself.
There were times (many times) that I didn't want to be planted there. I wanted someone to come along and pick me up and plant me somewhere else. Ideally a nice vase with fresh water where the soil wasn't so rocky. As fate would have it though that's not how things turned out.
Last spring the first opportunity to move on popped up just as I was preparing for my fifth summer, something I never thought I'd see. Parts of me were giddy with thoughts of pretty new vases but the idea of being uprooted still felt hard. I would miss certain nuances, the gophers, the sheds, eating ice cream with a fork because all the spoons had disappeared (again). As it turned out though I wasn't what they were looking for, instead of the pretty vase I was shoved back into the rocky soil on the side of a cliff (at least that's what it felt like).
Towards the end of the summer the second opportunity to move on appeared on the horizon. This time it involved a full on gold vase encrusted with diamonds. After a particularly stormy summer, in the rocky soil, on the edge of a cliff I was ready to make home in the fanciest vase that would hold me. Except I wasn't what they were looking for either, although I was closer this time.
Fast forward a few weeks and I've found another option. Except this one doesn't feel like a vase, more like a nice terracotta pot you put on your front porch. It's sturdier than the cliff but still exposed to the elements and maybe a little rough around the edges. I have an interview the second week in December and hopefully there will be a nice terracotta pot with a red bow and my name on it under the tree. Even though I never planned on planting myself there it might just turn out okay.
I'm thankful for the places I've been forced to grow and for the ability to look around and think that even if the view isn't perfect there's still reason to bloom.