-Tina N. Campbell| Scribed in Light
Let me be blunt with you.
Most of us wake up every morning and immediately step back onto the hamster wheel of yesterday. Same grind. Same thoughts. Same chores. Same routine. Different date on the calendar.
We are exhausted before our feet hit the floor, and then we drag ourselves through another rinse and repeat cycle, yet… buried under all that monotony, we carry these sparks .These little inner nudges whispering, “Maybe I could build something new. Maybe I could change my life. Maybe I could start that business. Maybe I could finally step into the version of myself I keep seeing in my head.”
But we don’t.
We dream. We ache. We imagine. We Pinterest board the hell out of our purpose. Then we… do nothing.
Why?
Because everything—every single dream—rides on one thing: Choice.
Choice is the hinge between the life we live and the life we want, and most of us never use it.
The Truth About Time (That Nobody Wants to Look At)
People act like time is a straight line on a calendar or a number on a birthday cake. Nope. Time is a veil. A very thin one. It looks solid from a distance, but put your face close to it and you realize you can see right through it. You can see what could have been. You can see what still could be. You can also see how much you’ve let slip by.
When you’re young, time feels like a highway stretching into forever. You picture your thirties, forties, fifties like some distant, dusty neighborhoods you’ll eventually stroll into once you’re wise and ready .Except one day you wake up and you’re there… and you do not feel wise and ready .You feel like the same kid who was just trying to figure life out.
I remember looking at adults when I was a teen thinking they were ancient. Then I hit my thirties and thought, “Wait. I’m still a baby. How are people calling me ma’am?” Then came fifty. And I swear fifty walked into the room like, “Surprise!” I felt young. Vibrant. Nowhere near what I used to imagine fifty would look like. Now… here I am at fifty nine… realizing the sand in the hourglass is not trickling- it is straight up free falling.
You blink and wonder how you lost time… and how you’re losing more every day. Not because life stole it. But because you walked through your days like a bovine on autopilot, grazing your way through routine instead of choosing the direction of your life with intention.
The Dreams I Carried… and Didn’t Choose
Over the years I’ve held so many dreams they could fill a whole second life. I wanted to be a physical therapist and help people heal with my hands. I became an EMT instead. I wanted to run a cozy bed and breakfast and spoil exhausted souls back to life. I poured that same hospitality into my home instead. I wanted to open a ship themed restaurant on the Mississippi coastline near the casinos. I watched other people build businesses instead. I wanted to run a boat to boat lunch service on the water. That one never even made it out of my head. I wanted a bakery and coffee house. A warm little corner of the world where people could breathe and slow down. Another dream that stayed in the imagination queue.
Why?
It wasn’t lack of talent. It wasn’t lack of passion. It wasn’t because it wasn’t meant for me. It was choice. Or rather… the lack of choosing. I chose comfort instead of courage. Safety instead of risk. Predictability instead of purpose. Routine instead of revival. And look—I’m not shaming myself. I’m finally just telling the truth.
So Why Do We Keep Waking Up? Because something in us still knows we haven’t lived our fullest life yet. Because the veil hasn’t closed. Because God didn’t put dreams in us as decorations. Because purpose doesn’t age. Because as long as breath is in your lungs, there’s still a direction you can choose.
We wake up because our souls aren’t done. We wake up because time is thinner than we think. We wake up because the divine keeps nudging us toward the life we were meant to live.
So What Now
Choose.
Not ten years from now. Not when things slow down. Not when life finally “feels right.” Choose today. Choose one tiny step that cracks the veil open. Choose one act that shifts your life one inch closer to the vision that keeps visiting you in the quiet.
Time isn’t running out on you. You just haven’t started running toward your purpose yet. But you can. Even now. Especially now.
That is the whole point.
You know that ancient Chinese proverb? “The best time to plant a tree was twenty years ago. The second best time is now.” We hear it all the time, but here’s the part nobody says out loud: It’s not a quote about time management. It’s a mirror. It’s holding up every dream I talked myself out of. Every idea I let gather dust. Every version of me I said “maybe later” to… until later started running out. It’s about the life I could’ve lived earlier… and the life I can still choose to live now.
And look—would twenty years ago have been great? Sure. But I didn’t choose then. What I do have is right now. Right here. This breath. This moment. This chance to stop grazing through my days and actually plant something worth harvesting.
Maybe you’re standing in that same place with me… staring at the ground you’ve never dug into. So here’s the truth I’m learning at fifty nine:
- Now is still good soil.
- Now is still enough.
- Now is still yours.
So plant anyway. Not for the person you were. Not for who you “should’ve been.” For the one you still have time to become.
From my heart to yours… here’s to perseverance in the hopes we’ve carried, the dreams we shelved, and the purpose that’s been tugging at us longer than we admit.
Here’s to waking up — not just in the morning, but in our choosing. Here’s to seeing time for what it really is… a veil, thin and precious, revealing how much life still waits for us on the other side of one brave decision. And here’s to you — choosing the grander path, the truer path, the one your soul has been whispering about for years.
Consider this my gentle hug of a nudge…a reminder that your next chapter won’t plant itself. But you? You’re more than ready.
Now get to it, Y’all… Pull your nose out of that bovines behind, and start digging.
—Tina N. Campbell | Scribed in Light
Scribed In Light 
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