After only one week of not working, I find myself completely at a loss for things to do. Don't get me wrong--there's plenty to be done--parks, library, swimming, laundry, house cleaning, but no matter how much I accomplish in a day or even afternoon, I feel...lost. Without a purpose. Waiting for something. Something big.

This is not a pity blog. Well, okay, it is (at least for today) a pity post. I am sort of disappointed. Having reached the (non)milestone of 27 1/2, I really thought my life would look different at this point. At the risk of blatantly plagiarizing another's words, it is, as they say, the Summer Of My Discontent. Or at least the week.

We have lived in Colorado for just shy of a year. In that time, we have become much closer to my parents, found (and left) jobs, had minor medical emergencies, huge financial crises, and one weekend that forever changed the shape of our marriage and faith. We've managed to dig ourselves out of tons of situations, only to have more crop up. The ONLY thing that keeps me going is hope. Hope that the purpose will be revealed, hope in a Savior who provides constant comfort, encouragement, and guidance despite the mess, and hope that at some point, we'll stop playing at being grown-ups and give the real thing a try.

There are so many things to be thankful for and look forward to. I am finally going back to school to complete a course of study. I have a demo going in to another radio station out here in Colorado, and maybe (just maybe) an actual teaching job is opening up where Adam is currently employed. I've been able to enjoy some time with Hayden and Hannah that I had previously been only too happy to give up for that almighty dollar.

And yet, there is this tiny little voice back there. The one that says, "You're floundering, you're lost. You have no idea where things are going in your life, and you pretend to raise children while you figure it out." On some days, that voice is louder than anything I can say back to quiet it. And it leaves me feeling not only lost, but completely alone.

So I cling to the Hope. That quiet but strong voice that says, "You are not alone. I am here." And I listen to that voice, despite its volume, because that is the Voice that speaks the Truth. So for now, I'll just keep clinging to that Hope. I've never been the most patient person, but there is some joy in waiting. Watching your kids figure out how to swim simply by being in the water. And finally, FINALLY, hearing a tiny voice calling your name, because it no longer feels strange to them that you are there-- guiding, playing, watching, and enjoying the brief moment of time when your help is still needed. When you, in fact, are still needed. And that quiet but strong voice reminds you that for now, there is more than enough purpose in that.


For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Jeremiah 29:11

misplaced:

–verb (used with object), -placed, -plac·ing.

1.

to put in a wrong place.

2.

to put in a place afterward forgotten; lose; mislay.

3.

to place or bestow improperly, unsuitably, or unwisely: to misplace one's trust.

from dictionary.com