Ambition

am-bish-uh'n
Noun
1. an earnest desire for some type of achievement or distinction, as power, honor, fame, or wealth, and the willingness to strive for its attainment.
2. the object, state, or result desired or sought after
3. desire for work or activity; energy

For some reason, this word has plagued me for the last while. As a teenager I wanted honor, fame and wealth and had all sorts of willingness to strive for its attainment. I decided early that I was going to be an accountant and quickly determined that I could not be a fulfilled woman without earning my Master's degree. Nor would I feel fulfilled without a successful and lucrative career as a CFO of a public company. These were my goals and if my parents didn't instill anything else, they for sure instilled goal setting as the key to attaining anything worthwhile.

So with my goals set, I enrolled in a university that excelled at Accounting, somehow graduated remotely well, though without a Master's degree (turns out I was wrong about feeling fulfilled without one), and landed a good job in Boston for the largest accounting firm - PwC. Everything seemed to be going well for a few years, until I realized that public accounting wasn't the dream job I had hoped for. I was not the first nor was I the last to come to this conclusion. After this I got a job for a public company, again part of the plan.

But then I married a student. This kind of started the derailment of my life's ambition. Because after that ring was on my finger, I didn't care anymore. That sounds awful and any self-respecting feminist would cringe and shake her fist, but after I married my life's ambition almost immediately shifted to supporting my husband through graduate school and to start a family.

Now five years later, that newest plan has yet to be realized, but even still, I find myself sort of at a loss for anything else. Motherhood, I am certain, will be great but shouldn't I be striving for other goals as well? Matt wants to write books, get a fabulous job, obtain more advanced degrees, open a small book store on the coast of Maine, and . . . When I think of what I want, my mind is a blank.

I know what I have no desire to do, I have no desire to climb Mount Everest, run a marathon, write a novel, be a CFO of a public company, travel the world, or start my own company. Is it okay if my life's ambition can be summed up by something published in 1905 in the Lincoln Sentinel:

"(S)He has achieved success who has lived well, laughed often and loved much; who has gained the respect of intelligent men and the love of little children; who has filled (her) niche and accomplished (her) task; who has left the world better than (she) found it, whether by an
improved poppy, a perfect poem, or a rescued soul; who has never lacked appreciation of earth's beauty or failed to express it; who has always looked for the best in others and given them the best (she) had; whose life was an inspiration; whose memory a benediction."