Those who know me well can easily see that I’m a goal-oriented person. I thrive on dreams, plans, and checklists. I love to push myself hard and set my sights high. I’ve never been one to use lame excuses. I don’t like to cut myself any slack, even when it is warranted. I have a relentless inner critic, who is always demanding I strive for perfection (or at least whatever is humanly possible). If I’m not growing, I can’t help but feel like I’m losing ground. Sometimes that inner critic is much more like a drill sergeant, screaming mercilessly inside my head that I need to go big or go home.
This is probably why I often bite off way more than I can chew. I’m always chomping at the bit, ready to reach the finish line. I often forget that life is an endurance race, not a mad sprint from goal to goal. Each goal should build upon the previous ones, making me stronger and more knowledgeable. All of my goals actually are intertwined, forming the solid foundation I need to reach higher. Even the smaller goals are essential in constructing the path to my future, no matter how insignificant or useless they might appear. You can’t walk 30 miles without taking that first step (and every subsequent single step along the way).
Somehow, my dream of becoming a published author got lost in the hustle and bustle of trying to choose a career that would support my family. I had all of these goals of where I wanted to be financially in 10 or 20 years, and I wasn’t convinced a writing career was the way to achieve them. Creative jobs tend to go through the feast or famine cycle, usually heavy on the famine part, and don’t provide the financial stability I needed as a single mother. Consequently, I chose criminal justice as my college major and didn’t look back.
Little did I know that God had other plans. Just mere months before I graduated with my bachelor’s degree and headed off to start my brand new career, life happened. I was suddenly hit hard by flu symptoms that refused to let up. For weeks, I struggled with my last remaining classes. My doctor and I just shrugged it off as only the result of piling too much on my plate. I was a freshly new single mother of two under two. I was attending an accelerated online degree program (so I could reach my career faster). I was working part time. I was also acting as a caregiver to my disabled father. Talk about biting off WAY more than I could chew!
My doctor and I believed that once I slowed down and rested properly, all of my mysterious symptoms would go away. Boy, were we wrong! I squeaked through my last classes, graduating with honors. It wasn’t the triumphant ending I had envisioned, but I had still reached my goal. I still had my degree! With that milestone behind me, I promised my doctor (and myself) that I would take some time off to rest and relax–well, as best as a single mother of two little ones could muster, anyway.
I actually did fairly well, given the circumstances and the fact I don’t handle idleness well. Unfortunately, though, my symptoms didn’t dissipate. In fact, they kept getting worse, and they kept inviting new unwelcome companions as months rolled by. Within two years or so, my health had declined to the point where it was a huge battle just to get out of bed on my own. Widespread pain, debilitating migraines and overwhelming fatigue held me hostage, keeping me from the career path I had meticulously planned out. My life had stopped abruptly–mid sprint.
I eventually was diagnosed with severe fibromyalgia and chronic migraines. At first, this felt like a sentence worse than death. I was well on my way. My goals were in reach. I could see the finish line ahead of me. But I had fallen and couldn’t pick myself up. My goals might as well have been a million miles away. My spirit was more than willing, but my body was left broken and bruised, with no idea of when (or even if) I’d be healed and whole again.
It is during this dark and depressing time that God resurrected my dream of becoming a published author. The Lord reminded me that even when our plans fail, He still has a plan. He can and will take the worst circumstances and use them to build something more beautiful and amazing than we could ever imagine. There were times when I couldn’t even walk on my own, but the Holy Spirit gave me a renewed passion for writing.
In fact, God used this unforeseen pause in my life to embolden me. It was like my heart and creative mind were on fire. For the first time in my life, I wholeheartedly embraced my first passion: writing. I spent many sleepless nights wildly typing away, relishing each and every glorious second. I couldn’t get enough of the endless well of inspiration that the Lord lovingly supplied when I had clearly hit rock bottom. Truly, God took this painful season and turned it into an invaluable blessing. I will forever be thankful for the gift of joy and purpose in the midst of such suffering and turmoil.
When has God provided for you in your time of need? Can you think of any blessings in disguise that surfaced during life’s unexpected trials?
© 2020 Amanda R. Dollak
Amanda R. Dollak 