Dancing With My Purpose

Even though I am a sensitive and emotional creature, I would not have expected to leave a 25-minute dolphin show at Sea World with ambivalent tears filling my eyes.  It just didn’t seem to fit the commercial spectacle that enters my mind when I think of Disney and all that engulfs its grandeur.   I was expecting a few thrilling dolphin tricks and cheeky drama peppered with corny jokes.  But I walked away from my seat with a more pronounced presence of some of life’s most quiet, yet glorious triumphs and my deepest longings, some of which will serve a life sentence in my body as such.  

The show was presented as a story, told with song and dance.  I watched the dancers move with grace as they performed in and out of the water.  Some of the dancers were dressed as beautiful birds and were attached to cables that allowed them to blow through the air with such finesse that one might briefly forget that humans were not made to fly.  They did things that didn’t seem possible and I kept thinking what a unique and wonderful job they have.  Not every person can say that they dance with and ride dolphins or do acrobats and fly through the air several times a day for a living!  You know that whoever does that job didn’t just stumble upon that.  They are doing what they were meant to do with reckless abandon.  That brought me comfort to see people doing what they love and it gave me hope that my daughters will always follow their hearts with the careers they choose, knowing that if they trust their purpose and their gifts, everything else will fall into place.  

I know the prison of wasting God-given gifts on a job that doesn’t fit those gifts.  I also know the freedom of walking away from such a job and the safety net it provided and not looking back.  Years ago, I took a leap of faith from a secure job at a time when I most needed the money and security of that job and traded it for an inferior salary.  But what I got in return was a confirmation that I was meant to bring encouragement and hope in the dark and lonely places of this world - and there will never be a shortage of dark and lonely places.  That leap of faith brought me face to face with my true purpose in life and reunited me with some of my deepest passions:  people, creativity, writing and so much more.  I will never be the same after being placed in nursing homes environments to plan parties, do exercise programs, go on outings and leisure rides, listen to amazing stories that bathed me in humility and so much more.  I made many lifelong friends and even though most of them have passed on, I carry them with me and am a better person for having known them.

I had no idea at the time how much I would be changed and affected by that one decision.  It wasn’t just the job itself that changed me.  It also changed my relationship with God.  He found me in a desperate moment and gave me an opportunity to change my circumstances but it was not going to come without a risk.  By the world’s standards, it made no sense at all to take that job and its enormous pay cut.  His timing was perfect because He knew that I would not take that leap unless I had become so miserable that the risk would be worth the consequences.  The only thing He required of me was that I trust Him and His plan for me - He took care of the rest and exceeded my expectations.  I learned through that experience that He will never lead me in the wrong direction and that He wants the best for His children.  I also learned that we are often clueless as to what “the best for us” even means because we measure  it by meaningless piles of dust that will one day be blown away and forgotten.  I want to follow a plan that has meaning and that bears spiritual fruit that lasts forever.  

The current season I am in has found me at yet another crossroads in life and, true to my nature, misery and inadequacy are creeping in to entice me toward the road less traveled.  My Father knows me so well!  He knows I’m a coward and that it will take more than simple trust to get me to move.  I am like an Israelite, too busy whining about having to eat Manna in the desert to remember that I was once a slave, rescued and delivered from captivity and I am now free.  That path is calling in the same way the colorful birds, dancers and dolphins in that theme park show were calling me.  I watched them all doing the things they were made to do - some were flying, some were swimming, some were dancing and together they brought it all to life and sent it out into the world to penetrate hearts like mine.  

I had been dancing with my purpose for a while but somewhere along the way, I could not hear life’s music and I lost its lead.  When I saw those beautiful birds flying all around me like a winged ballet, I heard the music and heard my purpose calling:  “Come, take my hand again and dance with me.  No matter what song life plays - whether sad, joyful, sultry, full of rage or worship, I will lead you through each and every one.  Stay close to me.  Follow me.”  

The Gift of Being Vulnerable

He was a lively, animated young boy, only a few months away from reaching his first decade of life and I was newly married and in my late twenties.  I had seen him around before, but since I had no children of my own, I did not know him or other children who lived in the neighborhood.  If I had known then the degree to which he was about to change my life as he approached our house, I might have run inside and hid behind my sofa.  But that’s not what happened.  

The moment he said hello, I was captivated by his charm and congeniality.  He explained to us as we stood in our front yard that he recently discovered we had a mutual acquaintance and was seeking confirmation, which he received.  The conversation’s momentum took off from there.  Before I knew it, the boy and I were covering a multitude of topics and when he mentioned his favorite book, The Mouse and Motorcycle by Beverly Cleary, I gasped in pleasant disbelief at yet another thing we seemed to have in common.   I adored that book when I was his age and had forgotten that it even existed.   I hadn’t spent much time talking with children in those years and as I watched him trot back to his home at the end of our street, I remembered what it felt like to be nine years old again and how easy it was to establish a new friendship over a very brief period of uncomplicated conversation.   

It was almost nine o’clock that night when I heard the doorbell ring.  As I opened the door, there was my new friend standing barefoot in the chill of that October night, holding out his beloved copy of The Mouse and the Motorcycle.  It was a gesture that has stayed with me ever since.  I read the entire book (again) that night to secure my confidence in discussing it with him the following day.  The rest is history.

Over the next years, I would grow to love this boy, along with his five siblings and his many, many friends like they were my own children and since my husband and I hadn’t planned on ever having children of our own, it seemed like a perfect opportunity to play the role of an “unofficial aunt”.   Our lives were now filled with cherished, young souls because of this one boy.  These children helped us with projects, they spent hours in our living room drawing pictures (which I still have), they accompanied me to work to assist me in running programs and activities for residents of a local nursing home and so much more.  They filled my days with sunshine and made my heart ebb and flow in ways it never had before.  But the more I came to know the kids in my neighborhood, the more I came to know about their struggles and the painful unfairness that some of them knew all too well.  During those years, I witnessed the courage of a resilient young man who used his gift of humor and wit through a tracheostomy tube that altered his voice, yet gave him life-sustaining breath.  I was faced with having to make a decision on how to respond to a neighborhood child’s plea for $10 after being told that if he didn’t come home with some money, he would be beaten.  I visited another young and troubled boy in the hospital after he accidentally shot himself in the stomach while trying to impress his friends.  I was given several opportunities to tell that same young man how special and necessary he was in this world and had to watch in agony as he continued on his destructive path, refusing to believe he was here on this earth to do anything other than take up space.  

I remember joining a few of these kids on the corner of a busy street just days after the attacks of September 11, 2001, holding candles in one hand and our hearts in the other as cars drove past and honked to express their pride and sorrow.  I saw the worry in a father’s eyes as he shared with me that his daughter was dating an older boy who was selling drugs and only partly understood the degree of panic that a parent might feel over such a discovery.  I was given opportunities to just be present, listen and encourage these kids with their best interest in mind, yet I was sheltered from the unbearable emotional load it can place on a person when it is your own child who is in danger.  Nevertheless, I had been broken enough to be changed by the truths I now knew and my life had suddenly become saturated with the aroma of an entirely new kind of love.  If I had been given an opportunity to turn back to that fateful, October day and hide behind my sofa so that I could continue living in ignorant bliss, I would not only refuse, but throw my sofa to the curb.  These children awakened something from deep within my soul and they have taught me some valuable lessons:  1) They taught me that love is not always about feeling good, in fact it is not about feeling at all.  It is a deliberate act of “doing” something loving or “being” a loving person for someone else’s benefit.  2)  They showed me that the world is ravenous for a little love and a little goes a long way.  3) They helped me see that there was more in me to give than I realized, despite my lack of experience and many insecurities and shortcomings.

They gave me a tiny glimpse of what it means to be made vulnerable by someone else’s vulnerability and how much courage it takes to truly love.  I would never be the same after meeting that boy and the many lives he brought across my path and within a few years, my heart had been so deeply impacted by them all, that I had convinced myself and my husband to courageously enter into the chaotic and heartbreakingly beautiful realm of parenthood and we have been blessed with two amazing daughters of our own as a result.   As if my cup were not overflowing enough, these neighborhood kids also inspired me to make the empowerment and spiritual growth of youth my life’s mission.

The kids we knew then have all blossomed into young adults and that old neighborhood is now bustling with the hopes and dreams of a new generation.  Some we have lost touch with and some we haven’t.  I have returned to those streets a few times over the years for a moment of nostalgia, but there are few recognizable signs of life as we knew it not so long ago.  Even our old house looks different.  But I can still see each of their beautiful faces parading around on the streets of my heart, where they made themselves at home years ago.  It is the one place on this side of heaven where we never parted and where I can visit with them any time I wish.