finding myself after years of wandering

author's note post-blog: I have never blogged in a way that reveals such detailed depth into my soul. this is a long, personal, reflective piece. something I would normally only write in a journal. as I have invited you into this post, I invite you to continue in prayer with me over the matters of which I have written....

I've spent months gearing up; weeks saying " at this time in three weeks, I'll be in...(the appropriate CA location)" This trip to California has been a long-awaited dream; even the work portion an escape from the reality of the busy-ness that left me in pieces this past year. The vacation clock is now winding down, and in between fun explorations, I find myself whispering, "Next week at this time, I will be pushing through financial reports, making conference plans, writing PE lessons, etc., etc., etc." It sounds sad, and while it may be a bit sad that I have to leave the vacation stage of life, I'm welcoming the return. But I return looking at my life from a different perspective.

Up until a few years ago, I had always had this plan...I had a passion...I had a goal...and I was going to make a difference, dang it! God had other plans and in the midst of those, I found myself feeling like one of those stereotypical twenty-somethings with no direction and no spoken purpose. Ashamed to speak to people about my so called job...or myriad of jobs, I pulled back from places where I would have to explain myself. Much like Habbakuk reflecting on God carrying Israel, I find God all over those few years of my life, and I can see how I've grown in tremendous ways. One thing that continues to nag at me is where my passion really lies. In the process of losing and refinding myself, I somehow started to believe that my passions had to be found completely in my giftings; and that if I wasn't doing something I was passionate about, then I must not actually really have that at-the-core-have-to-do-something-to-fix-the-ache-passion. Without passion, I feel, not useless, but purposeless...and without purpose life becomes this mundane, although very hectic, thing that I do. Like I'm existing, not living.

I DON'T WANT TO JUST EXIST! As I boarded that plane two weeks ago, I asked God to show me specifically where that desire is within me...to guide me toward what tugs at my heart. Not what I'm good at....not what I CAN be good at, but what Papa has placed within me.

Instead of soul-searching; instead of turning to myself in desperation for the answers, I found my answers in the streets of Oakland where God reminded me of the injustice that once broke my heart and spurred me to think beyond my own bubble. I found more answers sitting in the White House in Fresno as Randy described moving into a life away from his degree and praying that the Lord would use it someday. Many years later, God not only used it, but aligned it perfectly with the path Randy was on. God knew...God knows...I just need to keeping asking and waiting patiently. (Side Note: Although Randy and I have really only known each other about a year, this is not the first time God has spoken to me through him..it's fun to see these things play out.)

Justice. Prayer. Patience. "Less general, more specific, Lord?" God responded by showing me this couple, who with open hands, left everything behind, and moved to California to care for the "orphan" only to have their reality stripped and rebuilt by God in a matter of days. I've been around people who foster and adopt and "adopt" neighborhood kids as their own for several years. It's not new to me, and it certainly is something I've been interested in for many years now. Somehow while playing Sorry with a six year old boy caught in the midst of the foster care system, I realized what really breaks the chords of my heart. Maybe it was the way he referred to his foster mom as "mom" and talked about her favorite color. Maybe it was the poem, framed and hanging in plan sight, that his 11 year old brother had written her for mother's day. Maybe it was his super cute little brother who would stumble backwards and fall to the ground in an attempt to play dead. These boys and the stories of my little friends back home break my heart and bring me great joy all in one.

"God, what will you do with this?"

Couple these things with a conversation and a new friendship that has been forcing me to think out of my normal thought pattern. Unexpected questions that have made me question myself in areas I was already questioning myself, but looking at them through the lenses of an outsider. "Why do I love the city?" Diversity? Amenities? Seeing God at work in something so broken? Witnessing visible justice? Yet, I find my greatest connection to God in nature. Why wouldn't I want to put myself in the place where I am most consistently and obviously in His presence? Because I love the city....I can do what God has called me to here...this is what He called me to...this IS what he called me to...this is what He called me to? What DID He call me to? And what did I call MYSELF to? (ouch)

The answer: He did call me to St. Louis, but I buried God's agenda underneath of my own. I came to heal when in reality, I needed healing. God knew.

The quest for passion: my heart breaks for the child that comes from extreme brokenness; from extreme poverty; from families that either don't care or don't have the means to take care of them. I burned out very quickly when I first moved to St. Louis because A) I was trying to do it all of my own accord and B) it wasn't taking the form that God wants it to take. The burnout disguised itself as lack of passion.

The reality: These children are everywhere...I can go anywhere..I can be rural...I can be urban...I can even be (wince ever so slightly) suburban?

God is giving me pictures...a passion reignited?

The quest for purpose: I'm not in a place at this moment where I can see God directly using this passion, but I hear Him reminding me that I am where He wants me to be for now. And in this place, I have purpose. In Him, I have purpose. It is not driven by passion, but by love and trust.

As if all of this wasn't enough, God met me one more time. Two days ago, my good friend and her husband left me alone in their condo while they visited a close relative recovering from surgery. After they left, I rummaged through my backpack, emerged with a stack of receipts, and set out to finish a major portion of a financial report for work. As I sorted the receipts into shorter stacks, my eye caught the guitar in the corner of the room. The thick dust it's voice just begging to be touched. I approached it as a child sneaking to the cookie jar. Within minutes, it was sitting with it in my lap, the computer blaring guitar for beginners next to us, and my fingers fumbling for Am7, Em7, and Bm7.

Yet another passion reignited? There is music within me that more than longs to come out.

I still have four days and one more stop on this westward journey. These reflections have come early, but really they feel four years in the making. Now, I pray and wait. Pray and wait.

Lord, what will you have with what you have shown?