When I was a little girl, while most of my friends were dreaming about becoming brides and mothers, I was dreaming about becoming famous. I was going to be an actress, and author, and a songwriter.
Fourteen years ago I left my hometown, vowing to never return, unless they were naming a sign after me. Seriously.

I had it all planned out. I would fly into town from Hollywood and the mayor would drop the red velvet curtain to display the sign saying,

Welcome to Belle, home of Sundi Jo. 

Insert prideful, arrogant, distorted reality here.

Sometimes we miss our purpose in the midst of everyday life. 

Last night I was reading Jeff Goins’ new book, Art of Work: A Proven Path to Discovering What You Were Meant to Do, and something hit me.

If you’re not familiar with the movie Mr. Holland’s Opus, it’s about a frustrated music teacher trying to compose a masterpiece he just can’t seem to bring together.

He takes a job at a high school so he can have more time to focus on his music. Turns out he didn’t get more time – he got “busier.” By the end of the movie, Mr. Holland is a cranky old man who devoted his life to teaching students music, still without finishing his masterpiece.

On his last day of school, he opens the door to the gymnasium after hearing music. There sat hundreds of students, teachers, and other staff, waiting to celebrate his role as an influencer and teacher.

A former student, Gertrude Lange, stands on the stage and shows how Mr. Holland made an impact on her life, as well as everyone else in the gym. Then she speaks powerful truth.

“Rumor had it he was always working on this symphony of his, and this was going to make him famous, rich. Probably both. But Mr. Holland isn’t rich, and he isn’t famous. At least not outside of our little town.” She pauses, looks him in the eye and finishes. “Mr. Holland, we are your symphony.”

She then pulls the curtains back, revealing a full orchestra, playing “an American Sypmphony” by Glenn Holland. He conducts the symphony he spent 30 years trying to compose, all the while thinking his calling was never fulfilled.

When you’re calling becomes clearer, you must go. 

Fourteen years later, I’m going back to my hometown – the one place I swore I would never go. I’m returning to fulfill a calling – God’s calling. A calling that’s been put on the back burner because I’ve allowed the distractions of this world to keep me off track.

A calling to show people Jesus. A calling to open Esther’s House and see women be set free. A calling to use the gifts of communication He has given me.

[Tweet “When you’re calling becomes clearer, you must go. #artofworkbook “]

The humbling part? I’m not going back to a sign named after me. I’m not going back because I’m famous. I’m returning because life isn’t about me. I’m returning because this season of life fits into my calling. It’s not about selling books. It’s not about seeing my name in lights. It’s not about making a million dollars. It’s about Jesus. 

Think about your own symphony. 

Who or what is going to be your symphony? Whose life is going to be changed because of your obedience to follow your calling, despite how hard it is? Even if the whole picture and plan isn’t written out before you?

Don’t live in regret. A symphony is waiting for you. Your masterpiece is being orchestrated right now, piece by piece, in the ordinary, mundane parts of life.

Don’t hate where you’re at right now. Who knows where it will lead you. Who knows whose life is being changed right now.

Goins says in The Art of Work, ” Sometimes all the little things in life aren’t interruptions to our calling. They are the most important part.

Don’t miss the most important parts, my friend.

[guestpost]My friend Jeff is giving away his brand new book FREE. All you have to do is pay shipping and handling. For real. He’s only doing it for a limited time, so you should check it out today.[/guestpost]