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My passion for many years has been teaching. Life, however, doesn't always go the way we had planned. As Robert Burns said, "The best laid schemes o' mice an' men gang oft a-gley." The key to living life with passion comes from within ourselves - not from some exterior component. We must meet life head-on and garner from it what we can, no matter what our circumstances. I reached my goal of teaching, but then it was abruptly ripped from my grasp.

For as long as I could remember, I had wanted to be a teacher. As a child, I used to bribe my friends to play school with me, and, of course, I was always the teacher. I even made crude, hand-copied worksheets for my "pupils." I just knew that someday I would have my own classroom and my own group of children to instruct.

After having three children and a rocky marriage, I pretty much gave up on my dream. But life is funny. After a devastating divorce and being forced to move back in with my parents for a while, the door of opportunity opened for me. Mom and Dad lived just a few blocks from the local college, and with their help, I was able to earn my education degree.

I began teaching literature and writing at my old alma matter - finally, my lifelong dream was achieved. And it was everything I thought it would be, and more. I taught seniors, teens who were about to make the exciting metamorphosis into adulthood. They were my inspiration - my reason to get up every morning. I loved the interaction with these amazing young people. Their whole lives were before them, like a whole book of blank pages. They could write their own scripts. And just to think that I would play a small part in this play was often mind boggling. Their zest for life, their hopes and ambitions, were contagious. Sometimes I couldn't believe I was actually getting paid for this job!

But then life threw me another curve. After teaching for years with daily pain, my health deteriorated to the point where every day was a struggle. My doctors told me to apply for early retirement, so I did. The day my husband and daughter cleaned out my classroom and brought all my things home, I cried for hours. I felt that my life was over. Teaching was who I was. As I sat alone in my room, looking at photos my students had given me through the years and reading the little notes they had written on the back, a deep depression fell over me. With the love and understanding of my family, however, I slowly worked through most of it.

Then I had another setback. Some routine

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