My first job out of college was as a structural engineer for the City of New York. I was very idealistic, and while I had considered the Peace Corp, wanting to help people, I reasoned there was help needed in my own country. This job in civil service was an example.

I worked for the NYC Bureau of General Services, and had 40 million dollars to renovate 40 public buildings. That sum that did not go very far, and ended up being used on projects like putting in automatic elevators in the New York Supreme Court Building, where they previously had been manually operated.

It was a secure job that I couldn’t have been fired from, but I eventually left there (due to blatant corruption-another story) to work in the private sector for a small engineering firm. Restless with my employers making all the money and me doing all the work, I made yet again an even less secure move to starting my own structural engineering firm in NYC.

I did well; instead of flinging my weight around, as most engineers did to get the contractors to perform, I nurtured everyone. Bids for my jobs were competitive;  contractors wanted to work for me because I made them look good, bringing projects in on time, under budget, and with low stress.

I bravely swung from scaffolds 40 stories above the ground and the first non-hip harness was created for me, since I couldn’t use the the usual ones while pregnant. I healed contentious co-op boards and prayed projects through a landmark labyrinth that few people were effective in navigating.  I even healed laborers of physical problems, and shared my faith with with those who increasingly asked.

By now I had two children, a third on the way, with a dear husband who was a full time dad. We had bought a house 60 miles from the city, and my commute was a brutal 20 hours a week. Plus, the engineering work was getting boring, since I’d done most of what was new already, and now it would be just doing it on repeat.

And what was more satisfying, fixing lives or steel?  I decided to go further out on the employment limb and leave engineering for the full time public practice of Christian Science.

In many ways it was the perfect choice, with no commute, being close to my family, while having a new challenge with a meaningful, although confidential, impact. Why not help people directly?

However, in terms of finances, this choice was nuts. I would be leaving what paid more for what paid far less. My parents and my in-laws disapproved and counseled me against it. Did I need my head examined? Could this even work?

I remember driving home thirty years ago from NYC on a very dark expanse of highway I-684.  I was going over and over all this as a drove in the quiet night. Why was every progressive step of my career a less secure one? Should I actually make this leap into the tenuous unknown, with a young family to support?

What came to me – I think from God– was to notice the image of the fifteen feet of headlights I was driving into. I could see nothing beyond them. I was trustingly driving 70 miles an hour into fifteen feet, counting on the road to continually to be there, even though it was too dark to see it and be sure. I realized that was all this conundrum was.

And now, all these years later, I’m still doing it, with some art, poetry, blogging, and podcasting added in, which is yet again a less secure path than doing the Christian Science Practitioner job in a more traditional, institutional way. But thankfully, it is working beautifully, with God’s help. The road keeps showing up beneath me. I keep trusting that it will.

Our kids all went to college and are well employed, our dear little home is paid for, and meanwhile, I’ve thrived on freedom and worthwhile work. Many people have been blessed because I went further and further out on the proverbial limb, driving straight into the next fifteen feet of light.

This all feels like a miracle to me, and I’m so very grateful for the shepherding and care I’ve experienced the whole way. Are you needing to make a courageous move out on a limb? Or are you needing to trust the next fifteen feet of light? I recommend it.