the bachelorette and why I quit my job: part i.

{photo by Ben Evans}

Only I could watch The Bachelorette and have an existential crisis.

This summer, after weeks of watching Emily Maynard try to find true love on television, I discovered with horror I had actually begun to care about her story.

For years, I've watched The Bachelor and The Bachelorette (but never Bachelor Pad -- even I have my standards) under the guise that sure, it's meaningless television, but it also provides endless fodder for water cooler conversations and sarcastic quips at the TV screen. I even got my cousins hooked, inviting them over to participate in this weekly ritual: watch the show, make fun of the show, turn off the show, discuss why these dating principles never work in real life. It's educational, really.

This time, though, I found myself rolling my eyes less. (They still rolled, just less.) I cared a little bit more. And the entire span of the show, I was rooting for one guy: Jef with one F.

Jef rode in on a skateboard, which was way cooler than the helicopter some other guy flew in on. He was low-key and confident; he talked about his family, asked serious questions, and just generally appeared -- how do I put this? -- far too normal to be on the show.

Really, though, I was most intrigued by Jef's work as co-founder of People Water, a bottled water company which donates its proceeds to well-building projects in third world countries.

I'd watch each week and wonder: How does this 27-year-old guy get to live his dream job every day?

This was before I knew he was a millionaire, but still. It got me thinking.

What kind of story am I living?

I'm okay with working behind a desk every day. I'm okay with it because I believe my work is valued and important. I contribute to my family's financial needs, and my income helps me and my husband give freely and generously to causes we care about.

I'm okay with working behind a desk every day as long as I'm still living out my calling as an adventurer in other ways.

And somewhere along the line, I stopped doing that.

I quit working with the teens at church. I'm not traveling as much. I've become more withdrawn and quiet and, yes, a little bit confused, because I liked my job, took pride in it, but I wasn't sure how much longer I could work there and be content and fulfilled. I wasn't sure, either, what the next step would be for a journalism major in an increasingly (entirely?) electronic world.

Three weeks ago, Jordan and I went out to dinner to celebrate the successes he's experienced recently with his own job, and after listening to his good news, I teared up. My husband was talking about his job in ways I really wasn't talking about mine anymore. I'd become stagnant and frustrated and discontent, and it had happened without me even knowing.

I know I'm not a millionaire. I know, logistically, I can't start a bottled water company or drop everything and move to Africa.

But I can teach children about Jesus. I can travel and give my money to important causes. I can get rid of excess and live on less. I can take a few days off work and go to Venezuela. I can love the homeless and the hurting. I can pursue my passions and take leaps of faith.

Three weeks ago, Jordan and I prayed I would begin to find fulfillment wherever it had been hiding. We prayed for contentment and for new opportunities of all shapes and sizes.

We prayed, and He answered in ways I never could have imagined.