this i believe

In a recent activity, I asked my students to survey the class. Some of the prompts prodded, “Tell me about a time you lied.” Wow, talk about good stories. “Tell me something you have overcome.” Thought-provoking. One student, strip of paper in hand, quietly stands waiting for someone to approach her. Another, after completing the activity, looks around and appears to be counting students. I raise an eyebrow. “Trying to see if I remember everyone’s stories” she says. How lucky we are to have stories to share, I think.

Happy to silently observe such interactions, I’m somewhat startled by a voice that has broken away from the pack. “Tell me something you believe in”. I look around for the victim of his interrogation only to realize that it’s me. As the only person in the room over the age of thirty, it occurs to me that, at this ripe old age, I should probably have a good answer for him. Then again, he probably didn’t even expect me to really answer him, did he?

It occurs to me that I could give him many answers—most of them good enough—but not really a fan of the half-hearted answer, I pause, then answer:

“In order to tell you what I believe in, I first have to tell you what I don’t believe in.” This is perhaps more than he signed up for, but to his credit, he feigns interest.

“I don’t believe in fate.”

Now it’s his turn to raise an eyebrow, after all, most females believe in some form of the “happily-ever-after, meant-to-be” scenario, don’t we? So I continue. “I don’t believe in destiny—well not conventional destiny. I believe that I create my own destiny.”

Having grown up going to church—and surviving it still believing in God—I realize that this belief may be in direct violation of most conventional Christian theology. Everything happens for a reason we are told. Good things come to those who believe.

What I do believe is that I can’t simply want good things to happen to me if I don’t first expect them to. I believe I can’t expect people to respect me; I must first show them that I respect myself. I can complain only so much about these infuriating men I know without that ping of a light bulb disrupting my gripe session—have I done ANYTHING to meet new ones?

Maybe it would be easier to blame all the bad stuff on the Big Guy (while I secretly take credit for that promotion I got last week), but I can’t. I can’t believe we were created for His amusement—that we are all marbles in some giant game of Chinese Checkers that He has going on with the angels.

I believe that although I am not controlled to do so, I can still choose to be a good person—to enrich the lives of those around me. I do not believe in destiny, but I do believe I have started to make my own. I only have to look at my students—and the incredible potential they have—to know that my future also holds the things I am courageous enough to reach for. I believe that I have already begun to make my own destiny, and that in some small way, I might also be a part of theirs.

This I believe.