I don’t know where I’m going, but I know you’ll be there

I read an article today on Slate that really resonated with me. I would quote parts of it here, but really, you should just go read the entire thing.


I don’t like writing very much right now. It’s been months since I wrote something that I was pleased with, whether personally or professionally. Instead of a craft that I work at and take pride in, it’s become a chore, a means to a paycheck.

That’s not to say I don’t want to write anymore. I do. Even when I daydream about quitting and doing something else, writing figures prominently. (Today my brilliant idea was that I should become a flight attendant and write about that somehow … travel articles or something. Or travel articles and a book. I haven’t figured it all out yet. But then I realized that Delta isn’t hiring and I don’t want to fly Southwest and Continental wants you to have two years of customer service experience, which I do not. So then I thought I might stick with journalism.)

Journalism is still the love in my life (even when Jesus should be). I’m in this for the long haul, and I think I may have a book (or two) in me yet. But right now I’m in a rut.

And though they have nothing to do with each other, that article also reminded me of the introduction to Don Miller’s “Blue Like Jazz.” I’m tired of resolution – I feel sometimes like everything I write has to have a neat ending, even if it’s just spilling my guts all over the World Wide Web. I want to be OK with uncertainty and unanswered questions.

Sometimes, I want to create them for myself.

I never liked jazz music because jazz music doesn’t resolve. But I was outside the Bagdad Theater in Portland one night when I saw a man playing the saxophone. I stood there for fifteen minutes, and he never opened his eyes.

After that I liked jazz music.

Sometimes you have to watch somebody love something before you can love it yourself. It is as if they are showing you the way.

I used to not like God because God didn’t resolve. But that was before any of this happened.

–Don Miller


Filed under Autobiography, Insecurity, Journalism

2 Responses to I don’t know where I’m going, but I know you’ll be there

  1. Beautiful post, Carla. And let me just say that, wherever I go, I’ll always be interested to read what you write.

  2. Journalism is still the love in my life (even when Jesus should be).

    And just where do you think that love of craft came from, eh? Be the best journalist you can, give glory to God, and let the rest be details. I used to have this hangup about my field, and I got past it.

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