I am re-reading Quitter by Jon Acuff. Tonight I read the section about “hinge” moments. Jon Acuff states that “A hinge moment occurs when you are planning to do something standard and normal… when seemingly out of nowhere, something… hinges you in a different direction.” Hinge moments are moments that spur you on toward your dream and passion. He urges readers to identify hinge moments in order to refine their dream.

I started thinking through hinge moments in my life. I thought of musical ones, where a good friend told me after a concert that I needed to sing louder because I had a really good voice. A couple I ran into when I stopped by church for some random something that told me they had been talking about me for weeks ever since I had performed my first solo at church. I thought of a “negative” hinge moment; where something not so great spurred me on toward where I am. Failing Organic Chemistry was not what I was hoping for, but it was the clue I needed that Biology was not the right major for me.

As I journaled through some of these moments, I thought of one that I had almost forgotten, but was a perfect example of a hinge moment. It happened years ago, in high school.

I was a math nerd. Or, maybe better yet, I posed as one. All of my good friends were math nerds, so I figured I needed to be one too. I joined Mu Alpha Theta, the after school math club. I couldn’t believe I was voluntarily doing math on my own time, but I was hanging out with people I liked, so it was cool. It was good for me. My math grade improved drastically after joining.

I watched all my math inclined friends and grew jealous of the trophies they acquired at each competition. Even my high school sweetheart was one of the highest scoring in the state, as the top of his trophy laden dresser evidenced. I watched each shiny prize descend the stage stairs in their hands, and I grew determined to get one myself. I was currently studying Geometry in school and I really enjoyed it. All the shapes and angles clicked in my brain. I set to learning everything I could about the subject and took practice test after practice test to perfect my knowledge. My friends cheered me on and encouraged me. That trophy was as good as mine.

State competition rolled around, and the Geometry test kicked my butt. I was awarded no trophy. I was crushed, but set my mind to the national competition later that year, determined yet again to get that well deserved trophy.

While preparing for the national tests, I found out that they were offering a new category: poetry. They were encouraging students to write some math related poetry and submit it to the competition. I enjoyed writing, and had dabbled in a bit of poetry. So I sat down and played around with all the geometric vocabulary I knew and threw it into a love poem dedicated to my high school sweetie. It took me all of 20 minutes. I submitted it, and quite honestly, didn’t think much more about it as I threw myself back into my Geometry prep.

National competition arrived, and all us hyper math students were at the first awards ceremony, waiting to hear the results of the first few tests. They gave away a few awards and then they announced the poetry contest. My friends grinned big at me. I shrugged, expecting nothing. The judges explained that they had picked two finalists out of all the entries. I knew for sure that I had no chance, so I began to tune the announcer out. Then I heard my name called. I looked up, confused, and realized all my friends were shouting my name and pushing me toward the stage.

I walked up, grinning and confused. Standing next to some gangly teenage boy (who had written the other winning poem), I blushed while they read my cheesy geometric love poem to an audience of three to four hundred math nerds. Then I walked off stage with my certificate and got my picture taken (still no trophy for me… just a copy of my poem on nice paper) while I was high-fived and hugged by all those around me.

Perhaps numbers weren’t my calling. Maybe words were.