The Path Late Taken

“Thy word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.”  Psalm 119:105

I am one of those people who let life happen to me rather than setting an intentional course for my life.  But it is never too late to learn. As I look back over the years, I now see where turning to God for guidance through prayer and scripture at a young age might have led me to different destinations. No regrets. I wandered where I did and in the process of getting lost and finding my way back, I learned ask for and seek God’s light on all my paths. He is the lamp by which I write.

I have been writing since childhood. When high school rolled around, like most kids, I considered what I might want to do with my life. Journalism sounded appealing as I joined the school newspaper, but so did Library Science – a means to be immersed in a world of books. I thought about majoring in English.

It turned out; I became a nurse. My parents advised I’d always be able to find work. The manager at my first job said I would make a great nurse. I had two partial scholarships: one to Rosary College in Chicago where there was a library science program and one to Barry College in Miami where I had every intention on majoring in English. When an uncle told me Chicago was so cold in the winter, students walked through underground tunnels to get to classes, I swayed toward staying in Florida with the sun and beaches. The safe path.

At orientation, along with the crowd of freshmen being directed to meeting rooms, “English majors over here,” “Nursing majors, this way.”  I heard the voices of people I loved and respected and headed in the direction for Nursing.  It was the early seventies when there was a glut of teachers and jobs were hard to find.  The hasty detour.

In that split second decision, at age seventeen, I set the course for my life over the next twenty or so years. I lost sight of a few important road signs.  Number one, I loved words. Would I love tending to the human body and its maladies as much? I forgot about an impressionable moment in senior advanced English creative writing class with the editor of The Liguorian, a popular Catholic magazine.

The priest who talked with our class about writing, did so with a smelly brown cigar, wafting smoke into my brain pushing out any ability to hear or comprehend what he was saying.  I vividly remember after more than fifty years the growing ash at the tip of his cigar, teetering, clearly close to dropping on the linoleum floor.  Did he not notice? Didn’t anyone notice?  Were they so engrossed in his lecture or so not bothered by the odor that they ignored the possibility of a soon-to-be- scorched floor or possibly even a fire?

Behind him the jalousie windows were closed.  I couldn’t wait any longer and politely got up and turned the handle on the glass louvers, pointing out that now he could tap his cigar outside.  Oh, the fresh air! I forgave his odorous affront when he promptly told the class, “Now there is a good writer.”  Why did I not remember his statement during freshman orientation day? Again, no regrets, just a reminder to myself to look for the lamp to light my way.

So here I am more than fifty years later, writing. The path between college and retirement included stops as a Navy nurse and a long stint in the insurance industry with small detours down the creative writing alley. As retirement draws near, I’m paying closer attention to the road signs leading me to my dream of being a writer. As for that priest, I don’t remember anymore the smell of his cigar or even one word of his lecture, but I cling tightly to his singular statement, “Now there’s a good writer.” I’ll leave it to you to decide if I’m a good one or not. It’s never too late.

Copyright 2022 by Paula Veloso Babadi

Paula Veloso Babadi

Paula Veloso Babadi once quipped she can’t breathe if she can’t write. From her first poem at age eight to her columns, blogs and essays, she shares life’s beauty and wonder despite its many challenges and disappointments. You can find her collection, Everywhere Hope, at Amazon.com. She is a member of the Catholic Writers Guild, Florida State Poetry Association and Academy of American Poets. Contact her at wordsbypaula@gmail.com and put CWG in the subject line.