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My Path to the Super Bowl

January 24, 2013

I have a secret to share–one that my childhood friends will likely be surprised I am sharing, given my type-A personality.

I do not have it all figured out.

For so long, my life has been dictated by plans.  Everything was mapped out.  I’d go to high school and get straight A’s.  I’d then go to a highly esteemed college.  While there, I’d pledge a sorority and become student body president.  I would then go on to law school.  After that, I’d get some high-powered job.  This was the plan.  And for the most part, my life has gone according to plan.

Throughout my life, I’ve had a close relationship with Christ.  I’ve always leaned on Him to direct my path.  Or so I thought.  Looking back at a lot of the choices I made up until the age of 25, I was directing my path.  I wasn’t relying so much upon prayer to direct it, but rather, my own intuition and wants.

God handed me a huge curveball when I graduated law school.  That curveball was destruction of my plans.  As crazy as it sounds, the first time one of my plans didn’t work out perfectly came after I graduated law school at the age of 25 and waded through a tough economy to find an unfulfilling job.

I’m grateful that God shattered my plans.

I’m grateful, because He gave me something better.

Until the age of 25, I thought I knew where I needed to be.  I thought I knew the road I was meant to travel upon.  Since May 2009 though, I’ve realized that I knew nothing about my path.  I had no solid idea as to why I was put on this earth or the purpose I was meant to serve.

Since May 2009, I’ve said the following prayer daily, “God, show me where you want me to be.  Put me on the path that you want me to travel upon.  Do with me what you want me to do.  Give me what you want me to have, God.”

Here’s another secret I will let you all onto, and something that once again my good friends will likely be surprised to learn:  Sometimes I have bad days.  Really, really bad days.  I try my best to always have a smile on my face and to always be positive when I am around others.  Most of my mourning is done in private and my sadness is an emotion I keep to myself.

November 27 was one of those days.  I had a brutal day at work.  I realized that a relationship I had invested two years worth of time into was dead.  I felt alone socially.  And I didn’t know if I was just spinning my wheels with all of this sports writing stuff to no end.  So, that night I did what I do when I’m sad:  I crawled into bed and just cried.  I cried harder than I can ever remember crying, save for when the first boy to steal my heart died at the age of 21.  Underneath the covers of my bed, I cried so hard that I shook.  I was letting all of my fears go.  I was saying goodbye to someone I thought I’d hold forever.  I was contemplating where these dreams of mine would sail.

And in the midst of those tears, in the middle of that pain, I gave it all fully to God.  I said that same prayer I’ve repeated over the last three years.  The difference, though, is this time I meant it.

“God, show me where you want me to be.”  Should I be here in Colorado?  My heart still longs for California.  But I love being close to my family.  Is there a trail somewhere new for me to blaze?

“Put me on the path that you want me to travel upon.”  Is my work pleasing to you?  Am I using the skills you gave me in the way you want me to?  Where do I need to take myself to do what you want me to with these gifts?

“Do with me what you want me to do.”  What am I here for?  Who am I supposed to be helping?  What am I supposed to be doing?

“Give me what you want me to have, God.”  If this means letting go, I will let go of him.  If it means moving on, I will move on.  If it means my heart will hurt, let it hurt.

I gave it all to God that night.

I woke up on November 28 with bloodshot eyes with bags underneath them.  I did the best I could to hide both of them with makeup and put on my typically chipper face and headed out the door to work.  I dragged through the day with a lackluster spirit, but constantly reminded myself that it was time to give it all to God.  This thought gave me peace.

As I was driving home that night, I checked my email while I was sitting in traffic.  There, in the midst of my inbox, was my sign.  It was the beacon I’d been searching for since 2009.

“Wanted to throw out a unique (and fun) story idea for you – come to the Super Bowl.”

Come to the Super Bowl. So casual.  So simple.  As if this was something I do every week.  Come to the Super Bowl.

So, I’m going to the Super Bowl.  I leave on Monday and fly home the Monday after the game.  I’m going to be interviewing some really cool people and providing coverage that you won’t see elsewhere.  To say I feel like the luckiest girl on the planet would be the understatement of the century.  But, I feel like the luckiest girl on the planet.

And I am happy to be traveling this path.

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