I had pictured my life like most songs. The ones where the sound gets quieter until it fades out completely. Just slow down incrementally until I resemble a sloth. 

But God appears to have other ideas. Over the past year I have been privy to the Still Small Voice, the one that whispers "Go this way." Yesterday I got my acceptance letter to the Clinical Pastoral Education program at Thomas Jefferson Hospital. This is the training I need to hopefully become a chaplain. I say that without clear understanding of what it entails. Plus, there is the novelty of landing a position with people who did not know who my mother was. 

Getting to the city scared me. Not rattlesnake scared, but nervous enough to lose sleep. A modest Senior Fare card kept opening turnstiles for me as I traveled to Philly, and once I stepped into the sunshine on the sidewalk my phone offered clear directions. 

"Go fifty feet forward. Turn right. Go thirty feet forward." 

This seems congruent with the instructions God provides. Nothing about what happens five steps ahead, but guidance for this moment. 

In the new year my already blessed schedule, which includes five jobs that play nicely together like a puzzle, will integrate a day of classes, and a night of seeing patients. Some hours of sleep will be sacrificed for this end, but if memory serves I did it forty years ago and survived.  

I am frankly surprised. It does a number on my self perception, and yet if I truly subscribe to the notion that God makes all things new, I should be down for an upgrade.