Despite many misgivings about the intensity of a class I signed up for, the last year has gone by in a blur. Writing by its very nature is a quiet and solitary occupation. But between homework and clients it felt even more so. So, this is what it feels like to drop off the face of the earth.

Any chosen option means something else is not being chosen. Taking a certification program meant guarding whatever free time I had left. It meant limiting coffee meetings, and rainchecks instead of dinners with dear friends, and less time with loved ones.

When I signed up for the prerequisite class last spring, the world was a very different place. I expected a number of reality shifts over the following months, but nothing like what happened.

Some I was prepared for: new responsibilities, new mindsets, new habits, new opportunities. However, unexpected ones knocked the breath out of me.

Unexpected events threaten to derail fragile hopes and plans. When difficulties feel overwhelming, you’re no longer cruising along at the speed of life. Your car has slowed below the speed limit and you must pull off the road. It’s time to grab the map. Where am I going? Why am I going there?

With the end in view, you breathe in, and strengthen your resolve.

Wouldn’t it be nice if things stayed the same? But the essence of going from one place to another inevitably means a change of scenery. We don’t always get to choose those changes. Instead, we adjust. We flex. We move forward.

What does this mean for you?

No matter what those alterations are, they don’t invalidate the journey. They’re part of it, the new course, the shedding of the old for the new. Completing your milestone may not look like you thought it would. That’s okay. It’s still a valid milestone.

The vision I had for mine was simple: I envisioned my husband patting me on the back. That was from the perspective of the old me, the one who’d signed up in the spring. Before graduation, I’d become a widow. Upon graduating, my mentor said, “You need to make the announcement.” I am not a horn tooter, but I took her advice. I’m glad I did.

On this side of the completed goal, I’ve been surprised by amazing people. The single cheerleader I missed has been replaced by dozens and dozens of gentle and caring individuals. Each one took time from their day to share a supportive thought, an encouraging word or kind prayer, and a myriad of generous offerings. A couple even took a road trip and brought me a bouquet of balloons, and gift bag loaded with goodies.

There’s something truly special about reaching your destination and finding a welcoming committee waiting for you. If you’re wavering on your path, keep going!

Remember, it’s a milestone, not the end of the journey. There is still so much more ahead.

I am deeply touched and infinitely grateful for you. Thanks for being a part of it.

For Jack.