Sitting on the floor of my bedroom, I eagerly awaited the first glimmer of daylight. As the sun crept through the crack of my blue and white curtains, anticipation began to bubble over. We were going to the beach! My family didn’t visit the Gulf Coast often so it was an extremely special opportunity to swim, find shells and jump in the waves.
We stormed out of the library “together.” Yet we were anything but united. What was supposed to have been a fun, enriching visit to the local library — a summertime rite of passage for my kids who both love reading — turned into a brewing cauldron of emotions.
I woke up tired, the summer heat already resting on my body, my dogs nuzzling and pawing me to get out of bed, my husband sleeping softly beside me. My sleep had been fitful with strange dreams and interruptions. I could have stayed in bed for hours more, but I could smell coffee brewing—ah how thankful I was to have pre-set it the night before—and I knew that I had precious few minutes of quiet before the rising sun and circadian rhythms woke my sleeping children.
We all long for a sense of purpose, to know our calling in life, and to feel like we’re part of something bigger than just our day-to-day. We can spend our entire lives searching for that ONE THING that God’s called us to do. I’ve found, however, that our calling is not a destination. It’s a process of submitting and surrendering to the path God has us on all along the way.
Not long after graduation, I began my first job as a triage counselor at a community mental health center. I considered it a sacred gift that, each day, individuals from all walks of life would step through my door and share their stories with a courageous vulnerability that made me ache to do something to alleviate their pain. It’s hard to hold out peace to those around you, though, when your own heart is unsettled. I may have been sitting in the seat of a professional, but I was full of insecurities myself, not just about my career but about all of my shortcomings.