I just turned 26.

[Insert your favorite celebration emoji]. 26 is just a number, and seemingly another year. But why does it all of a sudden feel like my life is a spinning top – busy but going nowhere?

I think 22-24 is designated for “figuring things out” or paving the way for your soon-to-be obvious and holistic calling. 25 is just awesome because you’re no longer young, but you’re definitely not old. You’re so aware of the oyster-shaped world in front of you and you’re just deciding how you’re going to seize it.

But then there’s 26. It seems to me (via Instagram) like most people are on the right track at 26 – married to their best friend, owning their first home in an ideal neighborhood in the perfect city, and waking up every day to go to a job that fills their cup to overflowing. My lack of clarity in those areas brings a lot of doubt into where I’m investing my life.

It’s not that I feel discontent, but I wonder what purpose I serve in a city I don’t fully know my place in. I’m a substitute teacher (on summer break), I lead a Bible study for teenagers, I play guitar at my church sometimes, and I’m in love with a guy who lives 6,872 miles away from my house. I’m financially stable, I have good friends, and my Jesus tank is relatively full – but it’s like I’m terrified I’m not doing something important enough.

I stumbled across a magazine ad for a grad school in Seattle a few days ago. In the ad there were six pictures of current students and alumni with a short blurb underneath describing who they are. Stephanie Berbec graduated in 2013 and her current job description is “Connoisseur & Advocate.” Naomi Wachira graduated in 2010 is a self-described “Musician & Story-teller.”

What? Is that allowed? Can we just label our lives by what piques our interest and put it on a business card?

Wait a second. Why not?

I’ve met a writer, but I’ve never met a professional storyteller. I’ve met a chef, but I’ve never been introduced to a Connoisseur. Perhaps I’ve been in such pursuit of a sensible answer to my vocational identity that I’ve missed an opportunity to share who I really am. And maybe my paycheck comes from being a substitute teacher – but it couldn’t possibly tell you why I’m here.

What if we Christians got really good at this? What if we had a better answer than “Pastor” or “Small Business Owner” or “Waitress”? What if we were able to share our DNA with an authentic verbal response to a common inquiry that expects very little in return?

Can I practice with you? Okay, thank you. I really do appreciate it.

“Hi, I’m Rachel.”

“Hi Rachel, so what do you do?”

“Well, I do a few things. I’m a wordsmith, an ethnographer, and a vocational catalyst.”

“You’re … what?”

“Well, I’m a wordsmith – words are a bit of an art to me. I like to use my words with intention. I prefer to use unique words that describe a situation almost perfectly. I intend for the words I write and speak to captivate and challenge those who hear what I’m saying and make them want to pull out a dictionary when they get home. I read and re-read the things that I write to make my stories come to life.

And ethnography, my interest for that vocation was sparked in college. I never knew how important understanding culture is to a full life. I know if I’m to bring life and depth into my community, I have to understand what it needs. It’s not a waste of time to sit in coffee shops and watch strangers interact. Sometimes I ask local politicians questions about what they know. Occasionally I just go for walks and look at how houses are designed and arranged in each neighborhood.

And as far as vocational catalyzing goes, that’s what makes me feel the most alive. It wasn’t until I was 21-years-old that I could name one thing I was good at. I had no direction or language for what made me the only Rachel Nancy Woltjer in the world. But when I did begin to stumble upon my own beauty, getting out of bed in the morning was less of a chore and more of an adventure. Building friendships with others was less taxing and more invigorating. Imagining the kind of job that would suit me and my potential employer wasn’t so ambiguous. If I could spend all of my time doing something, it would be helping others see their own loveliness.”

Perhaps I have more direction than I realize at 26. Maybe if I stopped defining my life by the name of my employer but instead the pulse of my heart, feeling purposeful won’t be so complicated.

Who are you and what makes you feel alive? Do you need help figuring that out? – link to my email is just on your right there. I’d love to help.