Today I got together with a friend who I hadn’t talked to in almost a decade. Neither of us had stayed up on each other’s lives very well, so there were lots of gaps to fill in. We swapped highs and lows. We talked about the big moves and the big changes.
I loved hearing about the ways in which he followed curiosity and intuition and the places that has taken him. And though, in many ways his life, like my own, has been different than he expected or anticipated or perhaps at times even wanted, his life has been full and rich with experiences. And as I listened there was some envy that stirred in me, and some desire that woke from sleep and whispered for my attention.
Before meeting this friend I had woken up already processing through a certain aspect of my story, and I held that part of me as I listened, and she joined her voice with the voice of envy and desire.
Before Bryan and I got married my parents expressed one concern: they weren’t sure that Bryan would be able to give me the “big life” that I wanted. It sounds a little silly perhaps. But, it wasn’t an invalid concern, you see my husband has a fairly contented nature. Sometimes I think his ideal life would maybe look like a little cabin in the woods, all on his own, or maybe with a few close friends walking distance away. Somewhere he could live a simple minimalist life and rarely leave the house except for long walks.
I, on the other hand, have always longed for more, for change, for experience. Don’t get me wrong, there are times, especially during seasons of stress (which most of the past few years have been) when a little minimalist house in the middle of nowhere sounds pretty good. But, the overarching theme in my life is not for a simple, quiet life.
I want my life to be unique. I want to matter, to influence people, to change things, to build something, to be part of something bigger than myself.
In high school I didn’t just want to go to school, I wanted to influence my class in such a way that they would all love God and continue to walk a spiritual journey even after graduation. I didn’t just want to be part of a church, I wanted to change the church, or start a new kind of church. In college when I studied education I didn’t just want to teach, I wanted to change the education system, I wanted to start my own school, I wanted to teach differently.
I had dolls as a little girl, and I did play house, but I preferred to set up shop with my sister and best friend and create our own little company. I preferred playing with the boys. I preferred reading about great adventures and brave heroines. I preferred playing with Lego or to sketch out elaborate architectural plans. I preferred reading poetry while daydreaming outside. I wanted to do something, build something, create something. I wanted to feel inspired and I dreamed about one day being inspiring.
When I dreamed about my life, it never looked like life in suburbia with two kids and a picket fence. I wanted more than that.
My life now looks a lot like life in suburbia with two kids and a picket fence (although our fences here in AZ are cement brick rather than picket). But, I still want more. I still want unique. I still want different. I still want big.
I woke up this morning with this desire in my hands. So I started to look it over, examine it, and ask it some questions. Why do I want this? Is it part of me, part of who I am and who I’m called to be? Or is it an alter ego? How do I define the words unique, important, and big? How might I pursue some aspects of that desire even while staying faithful to the responsibilities I have and the place in life I’ve been given?
It was amidst processing through these thoughts and questions that I met with this friend, who by all outward standards has had a big life. He’s lived and studied and worked all over the world. He’s started a non-profit. His life is fluid and changing and full of experiences and creativity. I have no doubt that he’s touched and changed people’s lives.
And yet over and over throughout our conversation he kept making comments about how he hadn’t expected his life to go this way, how it was different than he had planned, how life took him towards things he hadn’t wanted.
Themes kept popping up in the conversation; themes of trusting the path that comes for us, of trusting that life takes us where we need to go (even if it’s not where we thought or wanted), of trusting that what is for us will come for us, and that all of the twists and turns and unexpected are preparation for what’s to come.
I have to admit, when I first left our time together, I felt the smallness of my life. Driving my minivan to pick my daughter up from school, stopping by the store to get groceries, coming home to laundry and dishes. It all felt so mundane, so repetitive and pointless. I didn’t feel like I was building anything, creating anything, leaving a mark on the world in any way, apart from maybe the three humans that trust me to care for them. It felt small. I felt small.
But, then I started to sit again with these questions, and with the conversation.
I started to wondered. What might it look like to live fluidly in the live I already lead, to listen to the prompting of the Spirit and respond even if it feels small, trusting that what is for me will come?
I don’t know how to live the big influential life I sometimes dream about, I’m still not entirely sure if it’s even something that is for me, but I think perhaps the way there isn’t found in pursuit of the desire itself, but instead in pursuit of curiosity, in pursuit of intuition and the voice of the Spirit that urges and prompts and pulls us forward into what is for us.
Perhaps I don’t need to change a whole system,
or build something that lasts,
or even make people’s lives better,
perhaps I just need to follow the pull,
listen and obey,
and trust that in so doing I will change what I need to change,
build what I’m intended to build,
and make better the lives of the people I’m called to love.
Grace and peace,