Packing My Bags and Giving the Academy a Raincheck

  Just over three months ago I was standing on a beach in Thailand. It was the last night of the most incredible journey of my life. After a little bit of wandering and more than a little bit of trespassing, my travel companions and I found ourselves standing at the foot of the Indian Ocean. It was nighttime and yet the full moon's reflection off the incoming tide lit up the beach, like the pillar of fire ready to guide us home. We all stood in silence, hyper-aware of the ephemeral nature of the moment. There was no need to talk. We all just stood there lost in our own thoughts and reflections.
  As I stood with my toes in the sand feeling the tide creep closer to my feet, I was struck with a sense of life, purpose, and clarity unlike anything I'd ever felt in my life. The ocean in all of its constant, powerful, ever-changing beauty seemed to wash away an old part of myself. And while I stood in wonder of the most vast and deep force on the planet, I was terrified. I wondered to myself, "Is this the best it's going to get?" I knew that when I got home I would be returning to classes, comps prep, dissertations, and a love life that could most accurately be described as a disastrous and painful clusterf**k.
  Then a voice came through my headphones telling me, "This is not the end, this is not the end of this. We will open our eyes wide, wider." Just in case you're interested, here's my full Thailand playlist.

 Later that night my beautiful, wonderful, brilliant travel companion slash best friend told me she had a similar experience. But, I mean, how could you not be moved when looking at this:

  The girl who stepped onto the plane in Phuket, Thailand was not the same girl who got onto the 777 to head to Europe and Southeast Asia. I had seen things like this:

...and this...

...and this...

  I had witnessed firsthand the fallen nature of humanity and all I wanted to do was to change things. To make them better. To help. To advocate. To cry for the tragedies that had gripped the world in both the past and present. And I didn't know what to do about it. Until I went on another trip.

  Go to Springfield for a conference, they said. It will be fun, they said. And, hey, why don't you take a car that's leaking transmission fluid? This is an awesome idea. NOT! Spoiler Alert: This is how the trip ended:

Pretty much a metaphor for my life: Stalled in an intersection not knowing which direction the rest of the journey was going to go.

  During what I would later deem "Murphy's Roadtrip" I got an email that said, and I'm paraphrasing here, "You need to go to your adviser and tell her the following things: When are you going to graduate? What are you writing your dissertation on? What do you want to do as a career? How many books are you going to publish? What are you going to do with your life?"

*insert panic attack here*

  And then I felt it. This wasn't what I wanted. I didn't want to spend the remainder of my twenties in graduate school. I didn't want the publications, the articles, the conferences. I wanted life. I wanted adventure. I wanted to help people.
  A terrible image flashed through my mind. I'm standing at the foot of the throne of God being called to account for my life. I look upon the glory of the Lord and I pull out a folded piece of paper that contains every tangible achievement in my life, and I say, "Here's my CV, God. Look at my books! Look at the conferences I went to! Look at my PhD, God!" I don't know if Heaven has crickets, but if it does, I'm pretty sure their chirping would be the only response to my life's work.  So I was faced with a choice: Continue on the path that I'm on or veer into the wilderness of The Great Unknown. One route offers security. The other offers...something else. The title of this blog should give you a hint as to which path I'm choosing.
  So I got home and immediately told my professors that I think I'm being called to switch to the master's program, to graduate in May, and then to serve people. Terrifying.
  I don't know where I'm headed. I have no idea what the next year is going to bring. But for the first time I feel at peace knowing that I have the chance to escape the rat race and to do something bigger. So it looks like, in the words of my future husband Andy McMahon, "I'm dropping out into the So Unknown" and I am excited as hell.