Skip to main content

Arithmetic of Purpose

   By nature, humans will, at one point in their life, ask the question, "For what purpose? Why am I here? What am I meant to do?" Okay, maybe they will ask themselves more than 1 question...but at least around the same theme. "Who am I, and why am I here?" It is built in our very DNA. Growing up, I didn't ask this often. I had a loving family who went with the current. Who I was and why I was here was bound up in my place in my family of 4. I was comfy. I was loved. I was secure. But alas...the question presented itself.
  I first asked myself this question walking down the streets of Rome. I was alone, I was 21, and I was lost. I had just finished AmeriCorps and felt like I wanted something, but wasn't sure what that was. I had found my faith, at last, and realized that perhaps I wanted to be a bigger part of the Church collective. I felt meaning to my nothingness. I went home with direction. I graduated from college, finally, and started grad school to become a Catechetical Director.
  But how to pay for life? I started out as a receptionist at a manufacturing company and within 6 months I became a Customer Service Rep/Inside Sales Rep. Wow. I was working in the real world. I came from parents who were teachers at a parochial school and a mom who also worked for non-profit. This. Was. Different. And I was good. Damn good. I seemed to have been bit by the corporate bug. I thrived on deadlines and the chaos that is the political bullshit of the white-collar world. 
  It was shortly before I became a CS rep that I got the opportunity to become a catechetical director at my home parish. I was in grad school and about to have my dream job. So, why continue grad school? I dropped it, and decided full tilt I wanted the corporate life...while continuing the directorship of RCIA. I could do both, and I did. For a long time, I did both. For 7 years, until COVID happened and I finally got pregnant, I did both. Loved it. Loved both.
  At some point, I was done with the culture at my first MFG, corporate job. I needed to move on. I was at the top of my game, but my heart was in the grey. I moved and am currently at the job I have now. And slowly and gradually the question has once again come to my heart. "For what purpose?"
  I am no longer comfy in my place in my family of 4. I have lost my brother and mother, and I am no longer secure in the place I once was. It looks different now. I still have my father, yes, thank God, but I also have my own family of 4. I married a wonderfully, secure man who loves the heart that beats beneath my chest and 2 miraculously, vivacious kids. 
  But, she is persistent, "Why am I here? What am I meant to do?" I watched an interview with Shia LaBeouf and Bishop Barron last week about his conversion from the depths of hell to the doors of the Catholic Church. It was a beautiful and awkward conversation between the two. But, what stood out the most was this... The Arithmetic of Purpose: 1. Find out what you are good at. + 1. Find out how to help people with that. = You have found your purpose. 
  Simple...in theory. Fucking hard...in practice. What am I good at? What drives me? What could I use to help others? Does it have to do with sitting behind a desk making sure that a certain product gets made on time? Does it? Does it exist in the teaching of others for the sake of their soul? Does it? What is it? 
  No, I don't have a resolution for 2024. I have a determined personal outcome. We can only change what we can. If I were to have a resolution, perhaps it is putting more stock into finding out my "purpose." I was never good at math, but maybe it will actually make sense this time. Here is to hoping. *cheers*
  

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Tiger must stay in your backpack...

   I'm not that parent. The one who gloats too much, and shows off all the pictures. The parent who relays every detail of their kid to let others know how incredible I think they are. Perhaps it is a flaw. Who knows. And I also pride myself in not being a helicopter parent. I teach and let go. I discipline and let go.    And I thought I would be ready for this: first day of Pre-K. I have been very positive and uplifting and have wanted my son to be extra ready to go to school. We have talked about it for months! I am ready... Or so I thought.  This morning, as white boy was leaving to take them to daycare, he said to Owen, "You can't take Tiger to school tomorrow or he will have to stay in your backpack, so do you want to take him to daycare today?" I thought little of it, but as Owen threw him down on the ground and turned to head out the door, my throat hitched. "Are you sure you don't want to take him today?" He said no. It was a sense of finality.  ...

60 years ago is not the 1940s

  When you are born, you are lucky to get one day a year to celebrate just you. Well, you and all the others born on that day. When you become a mother or father, you get another day for just you. Sometimes those days come when you are not ready, and some come when you wish they wouldn't.   Today, 60 years ago, my mother was born. A date that means littler to most people I know than to her or me. As we age, and my mother is no different, our birthdays become just another cycle of the rising of the sun and a following of the moon. Nothing to make a big to do of.   My mother enjoys subtly. She can be dramatic but embraces the subtle acknowledgement of herself. She has ALWAYS placed herself second and counted the accolades of her children as if they were her own. That was one thing my mother NEVER lacked: humility. Which made me often sad she didn't get more than 2 days a year commemorating her.   Mom, I know I've come short. I know that I have openly and often faile...

The Sacred Requiem

  He handed me the hymnal and asked me if I was ready...if I could do this. To be honest, I had no idea what I was doing. I had never planned a funeral, and even if I had imagined planning one it sure wasn't this early in life and it sure wasn't for my only brother, my only sibling. At 25, I felt like a little child getting left behind in a sea of strangers. I was terrified.   2 days prior, my heart stopped beating. 2 short days before this, my peaceful world collided with the dark. And now I had to prepare for the world to say goodbye to greatness. The tree fell in the woods and the world shook with its sudden end. And we, as the collective, needed to imagine that very tree as the beautiful piece of woodwork it now was and bow to it's new exulted shape.   I wasn't sure how to plan a requiem. But, it had been placed in my hands and I wanted to give him the best I could. He deserved it. He deserved life...to live...to breathe still and chase every dream he thought into...