A Thanksgiving Musing

 I have many blessings, I readily admit.  Too abundant to count.  Statistically, my existence puts me in the top privileged 1% of the world.  On this Thanksgiving Day, though, I'm particularly struck by the blessing of my vocation.  How thankful I am that I did not choose to follow the path of mechanical engineering, as my parents wanted, or the path of a children's author as I originally wanted.  I ended up as a physical therapist, and I am so so so so glad for that apparently random decision years ago.  

I remember the moment.  I was at Washington State University, a sophomore walking down the hill to my next class, realizing that I had no idea what I wanted to be when I grew up.  Engineering was so impersonal, so "at a desk staring at a computer", and I knew that my introverted personality and tendency towards sedentary pursuits would only flourish under such a career.  It would be too easy to be a brain in a jar, an inert blob,  as an engineer. I knew I needed a career that pushed me outside my comfort zone, or I would never grow.  I did well in my engineering classes, but I did not enjoy them at all.  They inspired no passion, and I remember sitting next to an upper classman in Fortran and hearing him say "I hate engineering, but I'm senior now, and it's too late to switch."  I refused to let myself get in the same situation.  Plus, I realized that I missed kids!  Little kids were missing on college campuses.  Everywhere I looked, there were only seas of young adults, and the whole place seemed so monotone, so FLAT without the energy and laughter of little kids.  I just remember being struck profoundly by that.  Where are all the kids?  So I switched majors to family studies, in an effort to find the kids.  I discovered within about a week, though, that THERE WERE NO RIGHT ANSWERS in that field.  It was way too squishy. There was no intellectual challenge at all in family studies.  It was pure emotion as a field, and that did not sit well.  I'm much too logical for that.   I HAVE a brain, and family studies did not use it at all.  

So, walking down the hill that day in Pullman, Washington, it hit me. I remember the moment so distinctly.   "I want to teach kids how to walk".  Just that thought.  It was overwhelming.  Who taught kids how to walk as a living?  Whose job was that?  I guessed a physical therapist, but I'd never met a physical therapist before, and I had certainly never BEEN to therapy.  At that moment, though, the way forward was crystal clear.  I needed to be a physical therapist.  And I skipped class, walked straight to the admin building, and changed my major within minutes, without consulting another human being.  I never looked back.  A pediatric physical therapist it was.

It's been 25 years now.  Can't believe that.  The time has literally flown by.  After all these years, though, I still love my job, haven't regretted a single day of it.  I love getting to enter into the imaginations of children on a daily basis.  I love getting to laugh at the funny things they say and do.    I love the relationships I get to build with families.  I love being able to help them come to grips with the delays and disabilities of their child.  I love being able to support them as they grieve, but also give them hope, too.  Mostly the hope.  Getting to show them the potential of their kid.   I love getting to be chief cheerleader.  I love watching kids defy odds, shatter expectations.  I love that parents send me videos of their kids' first steps, their first time at the beach, their first time riding a bike, of them going on a hike in the woods with their family.  I love getting to celebrate achievements with them.  I love that parents WANT to share their kids' achievements with me, because that means I was a part of helping those achievements become a reality, and that is the best feeling in the world.  I love being in the background of countless social media posts, of parents bragging on what their kid can do now.  The "behind the scenes" person that helps the kid shine.  That's the best.  I love being surprised when a kid does something that I honestly didn't think they could do, even if I never said it.  There's a whole bunch of humble pie in that, and I have learned to "never say never" in regards to a child's potential.  We just work towards the next step, and see what happens.  

Most of all, I love getting to be a part of people's lives, through the hard and the struggle and the tears and the triumphs.  Through it all, I get to be there, right along side them.  Yes, there's paperwork, and insurance, and sometimes not enough resources to do what needs to be done.  There's the monotonous stuff, and the frustrating stuff, too.  But that's minor compared to the joy.  How many people get to experience actual JOY in their job?  I do.  What a blessing that is!  

These are "my kids".  These families become part of my own.  I don't know how to do it any other way - it really can't be "just a job" because there's no leaving it behind when I get home at night.  It's my vocation, who I AM, not just what I do.  

What a blessing to find a vocation that brings such joy, such purpose.

So thankful for that this Thanksgiving.