A Path Not Taken

Once upon a time I wanted to be MacGyver.  As it turns out, it takes more than "a little basic chemistry, (or physics)" as he so often said, to make a career out of driving around in Jeep and rescuing attractive women from incredibly stupid villains and having relationships with said attractive women that just tiptoe across the platonic friendship line enough to imply a little nooky, but rarely any long term commitment, thus leaving one free to take one's duct tape, Swiss Army knife and killer mullet on to the next damsel in distress scenario. I will note that, occasionally the writers of MacGyver must have had pangs of guilt about misusing pretty much the entire role of young Hollywood B-listers (Terri Hatcher pre Lois and Clark, Nana Visitor pre-Deep Space Nine among others), and replaced the damsel in distress with a chubby bald dude (Pete Thornton) or a random Asian kid, but the formula was the same...
I'm sorry, I started writing about my career aspirations and ended up ranting about MacGyver, sometimes I get off track.  As it turns out, when I became a grown up, MacGyver was not a job they were taking applications for, and I had long since sort of dropped the ball on being a brilliant science type.  But I did find myself enrolled in a Bachelor of Science program at Penn State, learning all about Environmental Resource Management, now simply called Environmental Science. I muddled my way through organic chemistry and various ecology and natural resource type programs, learning a little bit about everything, but mostly not enough to be really useful. Then I graduated and found, as so many college graduates do, that my degree was not, in fact, a ticket to a "real" job or anything like a career.  So I worked at Staples for a year, where I learned how to get up and show up for a job, and how to do stuff to be a really useful engine.  I was employee of the month like four out of the twelve months I worked there (not saying that to brag, it was low hanging fruit).  The point is that I was actually learning how to do something useful, I think that if I had settled in and stayed on that track, I would probably be managing a store somewhere, and probably making more money than I am now, it was a pretty clear path and well within my college educated potential.
However, along came a job, "in my field," you know that thing that most of us Gen-Xers spent our Twenties pursuing like the golden fleece?  I became... drum roll please... an environmental consultant.  And began to learn the painful truth behind Oscar Wilde's incisive statement: "The only thing worse than not getting what you want is getting it."  My time as an Environmental Consultant caused me to unlearn most of the good things I had learned from my admittedly angst ridden tenure at Staples.  I became physically unhealthy and mentally over stressed, and I learned that perhaps the only skill that really mattered was covering your own tail, a fairly straightforward task which I eventually failed to do adequately.  Thus, I went to seminary partly with hope and a call from God, and partly with my tail tucked between my legs and dreams of being MacGyver in ruins.
I have been a pastor now for 13 years, lucky number 13.  I have done this longer than I have done anything else in my entire life, and it is good.  But yesterday I went on a field trip with my daughter to the Nanjemoy Creek Environmental Education Center and saw, at least an idea of what might have been. There were two guys there, who ran our programs for the kids, teaching them about animals and ecosystems and nature.  All of which gave me flashbacks to another lifetime.  Now, I'm pretty sure that neither one of these fellows, one young and right out of school (with the same bachelor's degree I have) and one older who seemed to be more along the lines of an eccentric hippy outdoor guru, were doing something that younger me would have found to be rather wonderful.  That is if you could have convinced younger me that spending your days teaching kids about all things environmental, from composting to birds of prey was wonderful.
But younger me probably wouldn't have gotten that message.  Younger me would have been put off by the (most likely) low end salary, the idea of trying to play tour guide to kids and various other, considerations.  Younger me was stupid, younger me never even considered this sort of a path, younger me made himself and those around him miserable until God lifted him up out of the pit and showed him something else to do.
I was happy for those guys at the Nanjemoy Creek Environmental Education Center, even though I could tell they didn't necessarily realize what a great job they had.  I probably wouldn't trade places with them now, because I'm not younger me anymore.  There's this episode of Star Trek TNG where Q gives Picard the chance to go back and make a different choice in a situation he regretted from his youth, an experience where Picard had made a foolish and impetuous decision that that almost cost him his life.  Picard makes a much more "grown up" choice, avoids the foolish decision, and as a result spends the rest of his life as a timid and bookish science officer rather than a Starfleet captain.  The point being that our mistakes and our flaws are as much a part of who we are, if not more, than our successes.
That can be hard thing to process.  It might lead you to wonder, "What if?"  But it might also set you free from so many regrets and a ton of guilt, so,  you know, it might be worth a try.