This is a response I wrote to a friend who was struggling trying to figure out if he should settle for a career he didn't like in order to have security or pursue his music dreams...

As an official adult who owns a house, has a job, pays bills and has already graduated from college I would like to say that... I've worked several jobs that I did not prefer-- that weren't my passion-- until my church started doing a series called One Month to Live... during which we were supposed to reevaluate out lives and determine what we would change if we only had "one month to live".

Within the next few weeks, I changed many things in my life but most importantly I quit my job (...which was, in fact, at the church! I'm quite certain that's not what they were going for :) and determined to do music the rest of my life. It was one of the best decisions I've ever made!

Though the economic recession made it so that I had to get a part-time job for a season in order to keep paying bills (FYI, I was able to quit that job recently), I was ALSO able to find a job DOING music. Meanwhile I had more free time to reawaken my music aspirations in our band (www.myspace.com/wearethepreamble) and in my personal writing & performing.

According to "The Millionaire Next Door" and "Millionaire in the Making", you are MOST LIKELY to get SUPER rich if you stick to doing something you REALLY love. How's that for security!

However, I think Howard Thurman addressed this issue best when he said, “Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.”

So, I say do what makes you come alive because I know a lot of "dead" people, mostly adults, and they are a drag to be around-- they aren't making the world any more exciting, colorful, beautiful or adventurous.

Also, I highly recommend reading anything Derek Sivers has to say but especially this article:

http://sivers.org/scares-excites-do-it

Oh yeah, and "We don't stop playing because we grow old; we grow old because we stop playing." --George Bernard Shaw

For those of you who read my last blog (and if you haven’t, I recommend you do for a laugh or some musing), the story had a happy and highly unusual ending. Yes, the thief returned my phone! Miracle of miracles (praying to Jesus DOES work!!!)

However, my run-ins with the law have, alas, not come to an end. Last week I went to Toronto, Canada for some medical research. I’ve been sacrificing my body to science for years. A regular guinea pig. Or lab rat. However, you see it. ;)

I had made the trip to Canada in December with no hiccups... unless you count the emergency procedure on the day of my flight back as a one. But that’s a story for another time.

I exited my plane, filled out the appropriate forms, and got in line for customs. I thought I was good to go when the officer asked me one question, made a huge "x" on my customs form and told me to proceed. Little did I know that "x" means you are in trouble. I stepped out of line and thought I was going to the baggage claim.

I absolutely was not.

I was quickly ushered into the immigration room with all of other people illegally trying to sneak into Canada. Oh wait, I had a legitimate reason. Nonetheless, I was assigned to officer 1 and my case was opened in Canada.

"What are you doing in Canada" said the officer.
"I’m here for medical reasons" said I.
"No, you are not," said the officer, and again, "Why are you here"
"I’m sorry, but I AM here for medical reasons"
"Do you know Peggy Brown?" continued the officer.
"No, sir, never heard of her, never met her" said I.
"Yes, you have. How do you know Peggy" he said, "do you run this business together."

Completely baffled I press on "I do not know this person. I don’t know what you are talking about."
"What did the officer ask you the last time you came here?" he said.
I told him.
"And then what?" said the officer.
"And then I got my bags and went to my hotel..."
"No, you did not," he said. "You were shipped back to the US."
"No sir, I was not. I stayed in Toronto for a week"

This interrogation went on for quite some time. I was assured that I was lying every few minutes. Finally, after about 45 minutes I was told to hand over all of my papers and my cell phone (and I had just gotten it back from the thief!)

I went and sat by three men from Africa who all had stories of their own. I prayed. I tried to read my book, "Out of the Silent Planet" by C.S. Lewis. I sang hymns under my breath (hey, Paul and Silas sang in prison). I was called up, interrogated some more. I was told I was lying some more. I handed over every phone number to every respectable person I knew.

This went on for at least 4 hours. I was not allowed to eat and hadn’t eaten all day (I thought I would when I got off the flight and APPARENTLY they don’t even serve peanuts on flights anymore). I was not allowed to call anyone.

I was the last person left in the room at the end of the day.

Finally, my assigned officer called me over again. "I believe you," he said. "Last December a girl came through here on the same day as you through the same terminal. She said she was coming here for the same reason you claimed. She was found to be involved in illegal activity and sent back to the US. Because of all of these coincidences, you have been flagged and will be questioned and possibly denied entry, every time you try to enter Canada until 2012. After speaking with your doctor, I believe you and am issuing you a visitor’s pass until Sunday. You must leave by then. I’m sorry I was so mean. I’m just trying to do my job, you know."

So I forgave him and left to find my bags. Since most flights had come and gone, it took me a good 30 minutes to sift through all of the excess or lost baggage to find my own. Once I finally found my bag I headed toward the taxi drivers. One offered me a ride right away. I agreed to it and started walking toward the exit. He shortly grabbed another guy, stopped walking and told me this new guy would be my driver. The new driver took a sharp right back into the airport. What was going on?!? Dumbly I followed, into the elevator, out into the parking garage, to an unmarked van.

"Are you really a taxi driver," I say.
"Yes, I’ll show you my papers, get in."

And so I do.

Because I’m tired. And I’m starving. It’s 8:30 PM and I haven’t eaten anything all day...

My Visit to the Police Station Last week I was at our local grocery store, Jewel-Osco, when my cell phone was stolen out of my purse. Since I didn't think much could be done about a stolen cell phone (and tracking it down would probably be a waste of time for any law enforcer), I didn't do anything about it but cancel my service and reactivate my old phone (whose ringer doesn't work).

Well, I started receiving calls from strangers. Being the socialite that I am, I talked to these strangers and found out they were expecting to reach their male friend/brother. Of course they were expecting this because HE STOLE MY PHONE and made several calls from it. So I gently explained that their friend/brother stole my phone and now I had THEIR numbers. I informed them that they could persuad their friend/brother to return my phone to the customer service desk at the grocery store and I wouldn't be forced go to the police with THEIR phone numbers for questioning. This plan seemed like it was going to work... and I started thinking I was pretty clever for even coming up with it. However, when the culprit didn't meet my deadline, 3 pm on Monday, I decided to go to the police with the phone numbers I had compiled and the clues (the thief was a man, spoke Spanish, and probably lived locally).

It was a very gray, rainy/sleety afternoon when I drove to the station. I pulled into a parking spot, at the same time an officer pulled in across from me. I opened my door. Stepped out. Closed the door... and dropped my keys... they landed right on top of a sewer grate, lingered for a second... then fell in the sewer. All of my keys fell into the sewer, rain pouring in like a raging river!

Being the calm, rational person that I am, I yelled out "OH S!+, OH NO, NONONO, what did I just do, OH NO". Of course, this was slightly alarming to the officer who had also just stepped out of his car. He didn't know, of course, that I only had one key for my almost new Honda Element. That it was a micro chip, laser cut key. That the used car sales man told me it was $1000 to replace a lost laser cut, micro chip key (is this true or am I a guillable person???).

The officer and I stared into the sewer for a while. I was disguising my dread with nervous laughter and corny statements. The officer finally said "Let's not stand here getting wet. Why did you come to the station today?" I explained that my phone was stolen and that it was a funny story... more nervous laughter. Still feeling guilty for dropping my keys, I shifted my eyes like I was the culprit, inside thinking "my husband is going to kill me". Then audibly saying, "my husband is going to kill me". Stupid.

We went inside and started filing a report for my phone. I tried, to no avail, to call my husband (who is VERY wise with money, i.e., thrifty, and certainly wouldn't want to spend $1000 on a key ;) What would I say? How could I cushion the truth? The officer made a few calls then said, "We might be able to help you with your keys". A few minutes later an ambulance pulls up and two paramedics hop out with a very long hook. Together with the paramedics and the officer, I walked over to the sewer and watched as they pried the grate off and started fishing for my keys, which weren't visible in the muddy rain water. They told me that the sewer was about 4-5 feet deep and that if my keys weren't heavy "they wouldn't be floating down to 55th St right now". "Are your keys metal or aluminum?" They kept asking. I DON'T KNOW. What kind of person knows that kind of thing?

The key fishing went on for quite some time... no keys. At this time I'm standing in the sleet with 2 paramedics, 2 regular officers, and the police chief... all staring down into the sewer. I offered to jump in the sewer but they wouldn't hear it. The police chief suggested using a magnet, hopped in his car, and drove to the local hardware shop. He returned a few minutes later and the magnet was Duct taped to the hook.

More fishing. Finally, the crew looked at me and said, "Sorry, your keys must have floated down the sewer, let's go inside and call the Honda dealer to see about getting you new keys". Devasted I followed them in.

Two minutes later the police chief comes running in, hand held high with a ball of mud...

and my keys... in his hands. Thank GOD!

And I lived happily ever after. The End.