On Having Purpose

 purpose: n. The end for which something is done, is made or exists.

 

Scrounging through the coat closet, I found the raincoat crammed in a corner. It is ancient, much like its owner, yet quite serviceable—another point of comparison. I created it as a prototype for a local dive shop, designing and sewing it. Whenever I wear it, the raincoat serves as a reminder of a former time in my life when I spent hour upon hour at the sewing machine.

I needed to go for a walk, with an emphasis on the need. A recent rogue ice storm grounded most activity in my area. Freezing rain came first, coating all forms of life with ice. A skiff of snow followed, covering up the base of ice, presenting a picture of deceit. Snow is safe to walk on. Ice is not. I, along with others possessing any measure of sensibility, did not venture out beyond my doors.

Rain and warmer temperatures finally came to melt things, and a sense of normalcy returned. I had been holed up for only five days, but it felt more like five weeks. The mood that developed during the incarceration was a heavy one. Was I being overcome with that same blanket of depression that enveloped me and held me captive over fifty years ago? I wasn’t sure.

It had been a week since the ice melted, but rain…and more rain pummeled the earth. I resisted going out. Besides, I was in my own version of a hamster wheel, going nowhere in particular but with great speed. I had a ready excuse to stay inside.

Glancing out the window, I noticed the rain had let up--for a bit. I removed my body from the rocking chair I had been occupying for some time and prepared myself to head outdoors. Raincoat—check. Gloves—check. The all-important phone—check. I grabbed the key to unlock the side gate before I changed my mind. Maybe I should grab my umbrella—check.

Since retiring from my gardening business, walking has proven to be an important, valuable activity in my life. The fresh air invigorates me; the physical movement duplicates hours spent walking behind a lawn mower; the solitude in creation, free from any outside influence, serves as an opportunity to be still, both mentally and spiritually.

The break in the weather didn’t last long. Why should it? It’s January in Oregon! A few sprinkles came down, then the wind picked up its pace, and a downpour developed. I was glad I’d brought the umbrella with me as an afterthought. The raincoat is fairly storm worthy, but when it rains in Oregon, it pours.

Using the umbrella as both a shield from the wind and a tool to keep the rain at bay, I trekked along, giving thanks I had taken the step to venture out. I did, indeed need to take a walk.

I had brought the mood along with me. What’s wrong with me, God? Silence. I found myself focusing on the umbrella and wind direction, wanting to avoid the experience of it being turned inside out. Since I was heading into the wind, that meant I had no vision other than what was at my feet, right in front of me.

Trudge. Trudge. Trudge. Occasionally, I shifted the umbrella position to glance up the sidewalk, making sure I wasn’t going to trip over any obstacle. Trudge.Trudge.

Turning a corner, I found the wind wasn’t hitting me head-on, so I altered the umbrella position, placing it over my head instead of in front of me. What is my purpose, God? I don’t feel like I have any purpose. Aha! That was the crux of my discontent, the mood that sent me flailing all over the place.

My thoughts picked up on that inner revelation. I have been of the conviction for years that, as humans, we need to have a sense of purpose for our lives. Otherwise, it can feel like we are just putting in time…until there is no more time left.

I began following that trail mentally while walking along. I became a mother at the age of eighteen, raising four children. If you had questioned me during those years of motherhood what my purpose was, I would have adamantly stated “being a mother.” I now have five grandgirls. From their birth on, I felt my purpose was to be available to my daughters and the girls as needs arose. They are now young women and adults, no longer needing to be chauffeured or taken care of.

I started a gardening business when I was fifty-four. What was my purpose then? To work to support myself and serve a clientele. And that I did—for over nineteen years. Then it was time to turn in the mower, the blower, and the weedeater.

‘My partner of six years became ill with a disease that had no treatment and no cure. My purpose during that period of time was most definitely to support and care for him. He passed recently and, with that passing, my sense of purpose.

The rain and wind let up. I closed my umbrella and pushed my hood back. Again: I don’t feel like I have any purpose, God. In reality I was saying, Why am I alive? What’s the point?

I knew I didn’t want to hear any platitudes—“Your family needs you. You have friends who care.”

A scripture I memorized in childhood floated through: “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose.” [1]

Cha ching! My focus has been misplaced. Life isn’t about my purpose. It is about His. That’s not to say that being a mother, grandmother, friend, and caregiver aren’t part of His purpose. Or that being a gardening grunt was separate from Him. It means that I find fulfillment in life because they are in His plan for me.

I’m still adjusting to the change brought by retirement and loss. Those things take time. What’s next? I have no idea. But He does have a point and purpose in all things--even in the dormancy of winter with its dark days and blustery weather.

Many years ago I asked my Heavenly Father what He wanted me to do. He responded, “All I have asked of you is to be.”

 It isn’t in the doing, it is in the “being.” In the same way my heart is filled, and I take great pleasure in spending time with my family and friends; in watching my resident hummingbird stake out his territory; in listening to giggles and laughter, so it is with God. He loves me—and you—exactly as we are. We do not need to do anything to bring Him joy.  Nor to have purpose.

“Thank you. I had forgotten." Actually, I hadn’t forgotten. He reminded me of that on my walk. I just didn’t want to hear it.

His purpose for me is to “be.” And with the caveat of living under His umbrella with Him, His purpose is fulfilled. The rest follows.

"Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven."

                                                            From the Lord's Prayer

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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[1] Romans 8:28 NIV

On the Things I've Learned From My Neighbors

 

“Good fences make good neighbours,” is a familiar phrase from a poem written by the Scottish poet, Robert Frost, in 1914. I stole the sentiment in an early encounter with my neighbors when I suggested that “Good animals make good neighbors.” It went unheeded.

 

I am of the conviction and belief that everything that happens to me and in my world has a point and purpose. And though sometimes situations may be uncomfortable, difficult, or just plain awful, they are given to me for the opportunity of personal growth and change. That concept has been put to the test repeatedly since I was inadvertently included in “The Great Farm Experiment.” 

The people who moved in next door to me three years ago are not bad. In fact, I am quite sure they are loving parents and want to create an environment for their children where they can thrive. That includes having pets and animals in their world. They are, however--and have been from day one of moving in--terrible animal parents, which translates into being difficult neighbors.

Have you ever observed a couple with a small child and found yourself thinking They apparently didn’t think things through before bringing another being into this world? Inexperience in dealing with basic, daily needs, naivety, and an unrealistic picture of successful child rearing can create some difficult situations aka learning experiences.

That is the picture drawn of my neighbors, except with animals. They wanted an urban farm at their new home. I’m not sure what their thought process was, but it was flawed, perhaps due to lack of knowledge about the basics of raising animals—how to house them and keep them contained, the city’s codes and requirements. Add to that an adamant, stubborn refusal to concede they did not know what they were doing and needed to handle things differently. It was inevitable that the calamity would overflow into my space. How could it not when four rabbits, six or seven chickens, a dozen Muscovy ducks, and four dogs, incorporated on a small city lot, were involved?

Awakening and finding rabbits grazing in my garden or burrowing under my favorite elderberry shrub, chickens making themselves at home as they scoured and stirred up the soil, oblivious of new growth, caused me to question: Why? What is the point? This makes no sense. I do not understand. I was the one to trap the rabbits in a live-bait trap and return them to their owners—repeatedly. It was just a matter of time before they escaped again because the door wasn’t properly latched. I chased the chickens home with a broom, looking like the crazed woman I was, but "free-range" means exactly what it says. I felt like the main character in “Groundhog Day,” who experienced the same day—over and over again.

Prior to this, I held the perception I was quite tolerant and patient. I learned—from firsthand experience—that I was neither. I “flew off the handle” when the animals showed up in my garden. In communicating with their owners, my frustration and anger spilled over like oil pouring out of a cauldron. It isn’t something I am proud of. I’ve said some pretty ugly things to my neighbors. Was I an example of a person of faith, one who represented God well? Hardly.

Another thing I’ve learned is it’s not difficult to be easy-going, friendly, and kind when you’re not under any pressure. Dogs barking throughout the night, interrupting the rest of my duplex neighbor who goes to work early; a dozen ducks being housed adjacent to my fence during the heat of summer, creating the putrid smell of a barnyard; a grandchild visiting next door picking up a rabbit pellet, thinking it was candy…and no cooperation on the part of the owners to acknowledge responsibility or to change. When there is no light at the end of the tunnel, no real hope for an end, the mind can become consumed and irrational.

The repetition of same ol’, same ol’ felt similar to water torture, where one is held stationary while cold water slowly drips…drips…drips onto the scalp, forehead, or face. It’s not a flood of water that drowns, but it is said there is a potential for insanity. Though it is an exaggeration to compare the two, the uncontained and/or improperly contained farm animals, along with the undisciplined, untrained, and uncontrolled dogs “got to me.” I was absorbed mentally and emotionally, a mental head case. My thoughts and conversation were filled by what was happening and my helplessness to bring about any change. I had no peace.

I’ve also learned that I am human. I am real, with reasonable reactions and responses when placed in a difficult situation. My reaction tends to be an immediate knee-jerk one, and I don’t think God even knows which direction I’m going or where I’m going to end up. Even at that, He never judged me or condemned me as I strove to find His will and His way...even--and especially--in this mess.

I am not a confrontational person. Typically, I wait things out and watch for the outcome. Not a single animal situation involving my neighbors has been simple…or easy. Every one required my personal involvement. I was actually pleased I stood up for myself and my duplex neighbors, contacting city officials and others to wield power and authority when our voices weren’t heard and our personal rights were ignored. I learned I did not allow myself to continue being a doormat.

I have spent the past three years dealing with animal issue after animal issue, the most recent one involving sleep—or lack of. “Please do not place your dog in the area outside my bedroom window at night. He barks at all hours and wakes me up, and I’m unable to get back to sleep easily.” Sleep deprivation is a form of torture. 😊 After nine months of their refusal to even respond, I pursued legal action. A letter mandating compliance was sent to them. The issue is resolved—for now.

Hiring a lawyer was never my first choice; it was my last. “It didn’t have to be this way,” I told them. I feel that’s how it is with my Heavenly Father. He is longsuffering, giving us chance upon chance, opportunity after opportunity to face ourselves and the actions and decisions we make. If we ignore Him and don’t give Him the time of day, He’s left with no other choice but to get serious—really serious. “If there was any other way.”

My frustration came to a head after spending three years where every situation was pushed to an either/or, culminating in the “big guns” being brought in from the city or legal system before my neighbors bowed to reason.

I learned I am capable of hate.

I think I hate them, I concluded. I’ve been frustrated, angry, and emotionally distraught, but I didn’t know I had reached a place of hatred. Hate is cold. It is barren. There is no emotion or feeling connected to it. It simply is. That scared me.

This is what I learned. Hatred did not walk in the door, fully clothed, and ready to move in. It developed over time, one frustrating incident after another, and then another. The frustration gave way to anger, then anger gave way to a raw, intense rage. It was like there was an area in my being that collected emotion after emotion, and I never conducted an inner house cleaning. They accumulated, becoming an arsenal of “little things.” Enter—hatred. I’ve never been able to understand how people can hate. Or what that even means or feels like. I do now.

I choose not to hate. Hatred would only poison me, and that would destroy me.

What else have I learned from this situation? I am learning that God is graciously giving me time. Time to keep a distance, to process feelings and emotions, and perhaps…forgive them. As humans, we are all cut from the same cloth, and I need to forgive them as He has forgiven me. 

Maybe, at some point in time, we can have a “good neighbor” relationship, one that does not revolve around animal issues. I would like that. They have twin daughters. I met them when they first moved in, and I showed them a bird nest I found in my garden. But I’m not there yet. I suspect they aren't either.

Learning experiences aren’t necessarily easy, nor are they fun. This one has been a doozy! Who knew chickens, rabbits, ducks, and dogs would be used to bring me to my knees?  But they are important as self-reliance quickly goes out the door and I learn to wait on Him. I hope He gives me a respite before the next batch comes along.

 

Some Things I Need to Learn in 2024

New Year’s resolutions aren’t my thing. Never have been. Never will. I know this about myself-- the harder I try to change something about myself, the greater the probability I will fail.

We are already almost a week into 2024. For me, it started out with more neighbor/animal issues, this time involving an attorney. The situation isn’t as dramatic as it may sound. It’s just that someone with more authority than I needed to be brought in to “emphasize” a dog should not be barking in the middle of the night outside one’s bedroom, specifically mine.

The attorney is mailing a letter of demand to the neighbors today. True to personal form, I was thinking how I might express to them my feelings about having to take that step. I wanted to tell them, “It didn’t have to be this way,” Forming the communication in my mind, I kept bumping into the fact the situation is out of my hands. That happened after I made the decision to call a lawyer. It’s not in your hands anymore, my Heavenly Father said. It’s in mine.

The more I thought about my desire to rub salt in the wounds, to put forth my two-cent’s worth, to have the last word, the more I realized there are several things I need to learn in 2024.

There is a common (mis)perception that God is like a genie, flitting around, touching humankind with His magic wand, and TADA!!, we are wonderful. The truth is, living life with God is like living in boot camp as we are toughened up, strengthened, and instructed in learning a better way of living.

These are some of the things I need to learn in 2024. God knows I’ve recently been experiencing the reality of clashing with people with whom I disagree and its unproductivity.

1.    The first thing I need to learn is to shut my mouth. I don’t have to “win” a discussion by having the last word; I need not always interject my thoughts or comments.

2.    Next, the importance of staying in my own yard cannot be emphasized enough. It isn’t up to me to correct people who don’t want to be corrected…or don’t even see a need for correction. I need to learn and live in the fact I am responsible only for truth given to me.

3.    Thirdly, I have been called to be a witness, (a noun, not a verb.) This means I am to watch and see what God does. He can do just fine without my help.That's another area where I need to learn to live correctly.

4.     I need to learn I am OK, exactly as I am. If God has a problem with me, He can make me aware, and we’ll go from there.

5.    I absolutely need to learn and value how truly blessed I am. Animal/neighbor problems are genuinely minor. 

6.  Lastly—until others come along, and I’m sure they will--I need to learn how to use an Instant Pot. I'm going to need a LOT of help on that one!

      Learning experiences can sometimes be difficult, but they are also beneficial. I’ll check back in a year and see how much I actually learned. May 2024 be a time of learning for you as well.

 

“A wise man will hear and increase learning…”

Proverbs 1:5 NKJV