The first time I remember feeling a lack of vision, I was a kid.

Not little-little—but old enough to notice that other people seemed to have answers I didn’t. Adults would ask, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” and I would feel a familiar tightening in my chest. Not because I didn’t have interests—I had plenty—but because although I could be or do “anything” I wanted, that wasn’t maybe what girls did.

There was always a reason. The political climate wasn’t right. The college was too far away. That wasn’t practical. That wasn’t what girls did. No one ever slammed a door shut, but although I could be “anything”, did I want to be the ONLY girl?

When options disappear early, certainty starts to feel comforting. Not limiting—relieving.

I think that’s one of the reasons I was so drawn to Christian fundamentalism as a teenager and young adult. It offered something deeply appealing to a girl with too many questions and very little permission to explore them: certainty.

You didn’t need a vision.
You didn’t need to figure it out.
You just needed to follow the rules.

Everything was laid out in black and white—the expectations of leaders, pastors, prophets, apostles, Scripture. The path was clear. And while people still talked a lot about “where your heart was,” the plan itself was already written.

One of the clearest memories I have is from a summer youth leadership training conference. We were asked to write out a five- or ten-year plan for our lives. I don’t remember which. What I do remember is sitting there, pen in hand, with absolutely no idea what my plan was.

But I did know the right answer.

I wrote what I was supposed to want:
To be a wife.
A mother.
To support my husband.
To raise children in the church.
To be a Proverbs 31 woman.

That vision didn’t require imagination. It didn’t require risk. It didn’t even require much decision-making. I didn’t need to know where I was going or what I was doing—only that if I followed God’s plan, everything would turn out okay.

That was the promise.

It turns out, that wasn’t meant to be my path.

Later, when it came time to decide what I wanted to do in college, I did what many people of my generation did: I took a test. The test said teacher. I said, “Great. Sign me up.” Problem solved.

For years, when anyone asked what I was going to do, I had an answer ready. I was going to be a teacher. And while I liked teaching—and was good at it—I also knew, quietly, that it wouldn’t be forever.

There was always a sense that something else was waiting.

After time in the family business, earning my master’s degree, and returning to teaching, that feeling didn’t go away. If anything, it grew stronger. So when circumstances in 2019 didn’t just suggest retirement but actively forced my hand, I surprised myself.

I was willing.
I was happy.
I was relieved.

Finally, I thought, I’ll get to figure out my vision.

And I did.

I decided to become a life coach.

That part came with clarity, intention, and a genuine sense of yes. But just because you find your vision doesn’t mean the path forward suddenly becomes smooth or simple.

Which brings me to now.

I’m still trying to bring that vision to life. I’m still working toward it. And lately, if I’m being honest, the obstacle hasn’t been confusion…so much as… me.

Sometimes goals and dreams don’t stall because of a lack of vision. Sometimes they stall because of hesitation, self-doubt, distraction, or fear dressed up as practicality. Sometimes the vision is clear—but walking toward it requires more courage than standing still.

So maybe what I’m experiencing right now isn’t a lack of vision after all.

Maybe it’s the uncomfortable middle.
The place where certainty no longer does the work for me.
The place where I don’t get a script.
The place where I have to trust myelf.

If that’s true, then maybe this isn’t failure or regression. Maybe it’s simply another version of becoming—one where the answers aren’t handed down, but slowly built.

And for now, that will have to be enough.

Vision pending.

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