"Is there any place else you would like to go while we're here?" Bill asked as we drove away from the parking garage after a rainy but fun day at California's Universal Studios.

"How about Rodeo Drive?" I suggested, remembering that Julia Roberts shopped there in the romantic comedy Pretty Woman.

"Ask Brigette if it's nearby," he replied, knowing how much I enjoyed the movie when we saw it in the theatre during my junior year of college.

I typed the name of the street and city into Brigette (the portable GPS Bill purchased just before our trip) and waited for her to process my request.

"Brigette shows that Rodeo Drive is less than ten miles away," I said as I pressed the Go button to set this as our destination.

Following our electronic travel companion's instructions, Bill merged onto US-101 as I scanned the horizon for the exit we were to take in .8 miles.

"Look girls!" I said as I scrambled for our digital camera to take a picture of the green sign that was coming up fast on the right side of the road.

"What did it say?" Katie asked after the sign disappeared behind us before she could read the words.

"Welcome to Hollywood," I replied as I pushed a button to view photos and found, to my dismay, that the one I just took was blurry.

We drove on in silence as Bill searched for our exit and I adjusted the camera settings, determined to be ready for the next photo opportunity. I wanted a picture of a Hollywood sign because it reminded me, not of college, but of my corporate days.

It was January 9th, 2006 and I had just commuted to the office for my final day of work. I took in everything as I entered the north lobby, knowing it would be the last time I walked through it as an employee. 

While scanning the room, an unusually large group of individuals caught my attention.  They were dressed for success in their best suits and appeared to be waiting for a meeting.

Why so many? I wondered, counting as I walked toward them. Twenty-eight, twenty-nine ...

Before I could finish, a woman asked the group to circle around her as she described the layout of the building.

They're new-hires, I said to myself with an understanding smile. Just like I was when I reported for my first day of work more than fourteen years ago.

And now I'm here for my last, I added as I reached the elevator and pushed the UP button.

It was an end that began a year earlier when I first drove to the office to resign. I had been waiting for the right time to quit for two years. Finally circumstances allowed it, my husband supported it, and I walked into my manager's office to find that I was ... unable to do it.

"Why did you want to meet with me on one of your days off?" my manager asked.

"I came to give my notice but now I'm having second thoughts," I admitted. "What if I reduce my work schedule to one day a week instead?"

I was secretly hoping that management would not agree to such an unusual request. If they let me go, I reasoned, then my career as a writer is meant to be.

This passive approach to pursuing God's will reminds me of what John Ortberg wrote in his book, The Life You've Always Wanted, when he told about a man who "decided not to seek a job he was interested in, on the grounds that it would be a sign of God's will if he got the job without trying."

"The problem with this line or reasoning," John continued, "is that it assumes that whatever happens as a result of our passivity is God's will. This is obviously not true." (p. 149)

The apostle James reached the same conclusion when he asked, "What good is it, my brothers, if a man claims to have faith but has no deeds?" (James 2:14a)  James went on to say that "faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead." (James 2:17b)

It took nearly a year for me to see that doing God's will might require the use of my own, and that waiting is not a passive activity where we are acted upon, instead of acting on the longings God has placed in our hearts.

What makes us spend so much time waiting that we forget about the importance of doing? If faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see,[1] shouldn't that certainty result in an accountability for acting on what we believe?

Maybe that's why I enjoyed the movie Pretty Woman so much that it came to mind more than fifteen years later as I watched the new employees begin their tour (and their tenure) with the company.

I could tell early on that Julia Roberts' character was sure there was something better for her outside of her current profession—so certain that she declined an offer that would get her off the street, hoping instead to be swept off her feet.

That's our challenge as well, I decided as the elevator doors opened and I made my way inside, to let go of what is, when it's standing in the way of what could be.

That's what I was about to do as I prepared to turn in my computer,  trusting that the skills I had learned in my current job would be put to good use in my next one as a writer.

Welcome to Hollywood, I thought to myself while glancing one more time at the new-hires as the elevator doors closed. Everybody has a dream. What's your dream?

"Is that our exit?" Bill asked, bringing my thoughts back to the present.

"It is," I replied.

"And there's another Hollywood sign!" I added excitedly before turning on my camera and snapping the photo.

As Bill took the off ramp, I pressed the playback button to find the picture as clear as the meaning behind it. If life is a journey—our journey—it should be us who does the moving. Only when we stop waiting for answers to come to us, can we come upon them as we travel along the road God is calling us to follow.

Everybody's got a dream. What's your dream?