A new challenge

Was an interesting day. Had lunch with two good friends; Ross, who I've reconnected with after being gone from California for a few years. He works part-time at the newspaper and he and I have conversed frequently. I joined him in Sacramento for lunch with our buddy Nick, a former colleague at the newspaper. Nick and Ross go back years to the days when both of them lived in Colorado. I think Nick was born there; and both of them worked at the newspaper.

But I think I've finally been sold on something that has been gnawing at me gently since 2004. My patriarchal blessing suggests I should go back to school. It doesn't say what for, but I've got a pretty good idea.

I want to give myself back in some way. I am reminded so often of the help the group of ladies gave my son Isaac and daughter Savannah when we lived in Wyoming. They helped Isaac with physical therapy and speech, and came weekly to the house to help Savannah develop her motor skills.

Those people who worked at the Natrona County Child Development Center were angels. Such tireless givers of themselves. They inspired me each time I walked in that office, always willing to help, always willing to do whatever they could to help our children. I cannot get that image out of my head. It's been in my head for years, and I think Heavenly Father placed it there.

He has a plan for me, Heavenly Father does, and it does not include my current line of work. If I could, I would quit tomorrow. I just might. I want to go to school and learn something that's going to help someone. I would love to teach a child to speak clearly, or help them discover their physical abilities, or anything that makes them and their parents feel good.

I remember so vividly the young women coming over to our house to help Savannah learn how to jump, or discover colors or shapes. It brings tears to my eyes to know that I brought Isaac to school for two years, nearly every day, and have his eyes light up at people like Teacher Debbie, because he knew that day would be fun and he would be in the care of someone who truly cared about him.

Maybe that was Heavenly Father's way of showing me something that I'm just now realizing. My life's work is not to wrestle with sources because I wrote something they didn't like or pander to businesses looking for some ink.

My life's work is to help people. It's why I got in the journalism business in the first place: because I thought I could help someone, make them feel good, inspire them. What I'm doing now is akin to cranking out widgets, albeit with a check attached to it.

I used to think that if I quit journalism that I would be leaving something on the table: some major award, some big story I never got to do. It's why I didn't pull the trigger four years ago when we left Grass Valley for Wyoming.

Now? I don't care about winning a Pulitzer. I've written some great stories over the course of my career, and I'll always love newspapers, but I'm not helping people anymore. I'm a hamster in a wheel. I'm not doing anything but meeting a quota, a deadline. The excitement, quite frankly, is gone. Truthfully, it left a long time ago.

And I still keep thinking about those wonderful people at the Natrona County Child Development Center, making those kids and their parents so happy. That is something that's priceless, knowing you had a direct hand in making someone's life better.

That's what I want to do. And that's what I'm going to do.