When I Grow Up...

Sometimes, while living in Virginia with Emily, she would sometimes ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up. My most frequent answer was, "I don't really know," or a shrug of my shoulders.

Now that I'm in graduate school, the same question looms every time I prepare for another class, every time I write a paper, every time I sign another student loan document. What do I want to be when I grow up?

Since arriving at seminary, my answer to that query has been "I want to study the Old Testament," or "I want to work in church education," or something along those lines. The problem is, that answer doesn't ring true anymore. Maybe it's the result of being in school almost constantly for twelve of the past thirteen months, but the thought of studying for another five years after the completion of my current degree program sounds, well, awful.

In the past few months, as I've become more interested in photography and, more recently, interested in the art of bookbinding, I've begun to contemplate whether it would be possible for me to pursue such things as a career or, at least, as a hobby that pays. I'd be glad to have a more traditional 9-5 to pay the bills, but my dream is that I wouldn't need to. I could tend a large vegetable garden behind a modest home, make books, sew things, take photos, cook large, delicious, mainly vegetarian meals, indulge in hospitality, and sell beautiful things to people who might appreciate them.

Can I dream such daring things? Or would such a path be a waste of the knowledge and skill I've acquired at college and now graduate school?
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