Wrestling With Purpose

It sneaks in through my insecurity; it gnaws at my soul like an unreachable itch; it haunts like an endless aching hunger. I wrestle with it, then reach some sort of truce, even experience nice stretches of contentment; then it whispers in again, often late at night, and won't go away until I give it what it begs for - but I still don't have the definitive answer, so the best I can do is placate it with words and blind reassurance.

Purpose.

I've asked the question in other forums and of many people. How do you know what your purpose in life is? Is it a once-and-for-all purpose? Or does it evolve as we evolve? Do we spend our lives learning lessons and developing skills in order to eventually fulfill our purpose? Or are those  experiences and encounters in themselves our purpose already unfolding?

I think that in my early adult years I may have confused my vocation with my purpose. I was convinced that my calling in life was to have children, dozens of children, some of my own and the rest adopted. For so many years, from as early as 5 years of age, all I wanted was to adopt children that nobody else wanted. And so I lived as if that was what was going to happen - and waited and waited for it to unfold. I took college courses in childcare to prepare myself. I searched for the life partner who would have the same vision and calling. As time went by and neither the husband or opportunity - or financial and physical ability - showed up to help make the dream happen, I was forced by circumstances to busy myself with other endeavors and other career choices. After a massive burnout, several severe bouts of profound depression, chronic debilitating fatigue and a body that would never physically be able to carry children, the dream became impossible. Not only would I never be able to have children of my own, I would also never be approved for adoption because of my history of depression.

Because of the severe fatigue, the loss of that dream didn't hit so hard...I was too tired to look after children anyway, so it was actually a relief to be able to let go of that particular calling. Imagine, trying to cope with a dozen children when I could barely get myself out of bed. Clearly that dream was not within my reach.

Through years of hard work, therapy and perseverance in focusing on gratitude and positive attitude (I call it "rewiring the attic"), I did rise from the ashes and rubble of those days of profound depression and severe debilitation.  I'm proud of my progress, and delighted to be in a good, stable, positive place with more reliable energy and motivation than I've felt since the early 1980's. I've come a very very long way.

But the one thing that didn't make it to my here-and-now is a new-and-improved sense of purpose. It's still a very fuzzy haze of confusion and unknowing...many of the answers that have emerged out of the many wrestlings do sort of click, but not enough to make the lasting impact that I'm searching for. When I was at my worst, so debilitated by fatigue as to be bedridden for long stretches of time, I remember sobbing and asking God what on earth I could possibly be good for anymore. The answer was clear and simple - you can always pray. It immediately brought peace, and for many years, that was the answer I fell back on whenever the question would haunt me again. And God seemed to be very serious about it, to the point of waking me up at night with vivid images of people and global situations to pray for (many of which don't even ever show up in the newspapers or TV newscasts, so would never have come to my mind by themselves because I couldn't even conceive of such misery and need when all of this first began). I am not able to fall back to sleep again until I pray for these people and situations. This continues even today, not only at night, but constantly...constant beckonings and callings to pray for a never-ending stream of names, people and circumstances. There's no doubt in my mind and heart that this is indeed something I'm meant to do. And I love to do it, I love to pray...even when I'm in the middle of a mall, or restaurant, or the hustle and bustle of a crowded city street, I can feel my spirit constantly praying for healing and blessings on the people I encounter and pass along the way.

But for some reason, there's still something inside of me that can't accept that it's enough...at the end of each day, as I thank God for the blessings and wonders of that day, I also find myself asking, yet again, that my eyes and heart be opened to see and fulfill my purpose, my reason for being here. The answers are always the same: pray, love (learn how to love and to be loved) and be light. One of my very favourite scripture verses is from Micah 6:8, and I hug it close to my heart as one of the most beloved answers to my quest for what I'm here to do:  

What does the Lord require of you?
To act justly and to love mercy  
and to walk humbly with your God.

 I can do that. I'm learning more and more about love and mercy every moment. And humility? I can only laugh, because one of the most constant situations I encounter - everywhere I go - is the empty toilet paper roller - I'm serious!! It happens so much that I've actually asked God, half-joking, half-whining, if that was my purpose in life, to change the toilet paper rolls everywhere I go...I think He may have actually answered me by asking "well, what if that WAS all I ever asked you to do?" To which I answered, "well, if I knew it was You asking it of me, I would do it with joy." And I swear I saw His eyes sparkle...and so I change the toilet paper roll everywhere I go, with joy and gratitude, and a little knowing glance and chuckle at that twinkle in His eye.

At this point in time, I honestly don't know if it's enough, if these "very little things" can really be my purpose in life. There doesn't seem to be a definitive answer that will silence that questioning or feed that yearning...but maybe we're not meant to know all the facets or nooks and crannies of our purpose. Maybe for some of us, it really does evolve as the day evolves. Some people do seem to have a better grasp of what they're meant to do, I would like to experience that sense of accomplishment and contentment, but will probably have to continue wrestling with whatever it is within me that is blocking that sense of "being enough".

For now I'll continue to pray, love, and be light wherever possible. And change the toilet paper rolls everywhere I go.

Now Is Right On Time

Somebody posted this on my Facebook wall last night and it sent me to bed with gratitude in my heart because for several days now, I've been in a bit of a funk. It was triggered by hearing about a family reunion that took place recently - and to which I was not invited. And yet I heard about it only because people contacted me to say that they were sorry I hadn't been able to make it - apparently they all thought that it had been too far for us to drive. But after searching through my email and phone messages, we're sure that we received nothing about being welcome to join the gathering. It would not have bothered me so much to hear that everyone had gotten together...it only bothered me to hear that they THOUGHT I had been invited and just didn't show up. When in fact, I've been so hungry for family lately that nothing would have kept me away had I known I would be welcome.

So then I've been haunted and plagued by the relentless "why" running helter-skelter through my mind ever since. And that caused another avalanche of regrets and despair, and those old familiar feelings of inferiority and worthlessness because in my mind, the lack of invitation affirmed the fear that my life has been such a disaster and taken such questionable twists and turns as to render me unacceptable in the eyes and hearts of this part of my family. "Beyond Redemption" so to speak.

In my saner, wiser moments, I'm convinced beyond doubt that there is no such thing as being "beyond redemption". I've experienced the mercy and grace of God to such profound and tangible extents, that it is impossible for me to believe that any one of us could ever be beyond His love. And yet, there I was, lost and wallowing in those old fears that I could be wrong and that maybe....

But I resolutely fought back against that tide of despair, clinging to my faith and to the lessons I've learned about God's Love. I wrestled with these old regrets and ancient tapes in my head, and prayed for help in my endeavor to refocus on the positive and good - on GOD'S loving vision for my life - I mean, we can't go back and rewrite history, can we...and having experienced His mercy and tender compassion, it's impossible to conceive that we would be forever banned from His Presence because of stupid choices we've made in the past. The only sane way to keep oneself going is to believe that there is good that can come out of anything and everything...that we can grow and evolve and perhaps even become wounded healers, able to help others who are also lost and wounded along their way.

So I prayed, and wept, and prayed some more, and read inspirational writings, and prayed, nagging Him with my angst and moanings, crawling into His Love for solace, and then slowly began to regain my footing to the point where I could let go of all of that garbage. And then a friend, who knew nothing of all of this, posted this quote on my wall. For me it was the perfect answer to my prayers...a tender, loving response from a tender, loving God who knows the crushing disappointment I feel about myself all too often, who knows the agonizing sadness of those regrets and my ongoing attempts to fumble my way to "better" and "wiser".

My journey has molded me for my greater good. It was exactly what it needed to be. I can believe that none of it was lost (or wasted) time - because it has taken EACH and EVERY situation - every twist and turn has had its lessons and wisdoms that He needed me to learn - to bring me to my - not just "my", but HIS "now" for me - and this "now", here today, is RIGHT ON TIME! Hallelujah!!

Maybe my invitation was lost in the mail. Maybe they were just meant to be together the way they gathered, for reasons more profound than any of us know. Now it's okay. I'm okay. I trust again. There will be other gatherings, and the time will be right for me to be there. God answered. I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be. And it is very very good.

Transience

Transience. Transience is something I've been wrestling with for most of my life. On the one hand, the reality that "this too shall pass" is comforting and can get me through just about any unbearable situation. On the other hand, I've always had difficulty watching people leave my life. Death is agonizing because there is not even the hope of ever seeing that person again here on earth. When a person's leaving is due to a move, we can at least comfort ourselves with promises to keep in touch...and we do...for awhile, until time, distance and life's demands pull us in different directions. When a person leaves with no explanation at all, we can be left in a swirl of confusing questions and a sense of unfinished business and unclosed doors. It can often be difficult to move on until we can figure out the "why".

I have abandonment issues. We're not sure why it's as profound as it is, but it is what it is. Therapy hasn't really unlocked the "why", but has helped me to develop coping skills so as not to be as devastated by leave-takings as I used to be. But I'm still profoundly affected when someone leaves my life for whatever reason, and every leave-taking eventually leads me through a myriad of nagging questions always ending with that most painful question of all "why don't they like me?"

Even writing it betrays the childishness behind the inability to let go gracefully. I am much more graceful at letting go now than I used to be. Someone's leaving used to reduce me to a crumpled heap of writhing bafflement, spending hours and days in bed coming to terms with that agony of absence, and figuring out how to tiptoe around the holes that each person leaves behind in my heart. Now I'm more understanding of the transience of life, and that people have to march to their own drumbeats....faith helps when I believe that each person has a purpose they are fulfilling and that "moving on" is God-at-work. It still hurts, but not with such detrimental force.

I love deeply. Each person who comes into my life is such a treasure, I just want to sit at their feet and learn everything there is to learn, both about that person and about everything that person knows. Intense, I know. (I probably would have made a great psychologist!) Perhaps that's why I've retreated into social hibernation, not just because I've lost so many loved ones recently, but because I simply don't always know how to rein in that exuberance with the few that are left...it's easier not to have to figure it out than to keep having to stifle my joy in being with people I enjoy being with.

I've never been able to figure it out. It's the bane of my existence, this whole social interaction facet of life. I've never been able to figure out when too much is too much and too little is too little, maybe because it changes with each person and they just don't know how to teach me or stay around long enough for me to learn. Sadly, what's joy to me appears to be burdensome to them. 

Sigh. This is such a weird topic. But I'm really missing some people right now, people who used to be a vibrant part of my life and now aren't even on the radar anymore. Why? I don't know. And when I don't know why this friendship or that relationship didn't work, how do I learn for the next one so that I don't make the same mistakes over and over again?

Sometimes my head aches with trying to figure it all out. So I don't. I just keep on moving on, hoping that time will heal all wounds and reveal reasons and resolutions.

This too shall pass...

Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born.  (Anaïs Nin)