Last night, a friend reminded me of the ever-present quest for a perfect job--a perfect life--abundant in fulfillment, and accomplishment, and free of frustration. Oh, and could you give me meaningful days free of boredom, and monotony.
To some degree, I live a life of luxury. Well...I could eat bon bons, if I wanted. I have the time. But, truth be told, that is not the life I want to live. I do not have the responsibilities of a full-time, or a part-time employee, for that matter. So, it is easy for me to make pronouncements about a perfect job---a perfect life.
My struggle with finding the perfect job were put to an end with the failure of my body. My mind-filled wish for the perfect job was no matter for my consideration.
A perfect life???
Hmmmm....I am still working on that one.
Any delusion of keen listening--of being able to offer constructive suggestions solely by virtue of listening with a keen ear--were dispelled, when my conversation with my friend ended.
What are my job responsibilities today?
I have tended to apologize for my current life, as compared to when I was employed by a large corporation. I am not providing any quantifiable product or service to my "customers," in the lingo of corporate America. So, what contribution am I offering?
What are my job responsibilities today? Who are my customers? What contributions am I offering.
Tending to the needs of my body. Exercising it to make sure that I take the actions within my power to preserve this vessel I was given 51 years ago in the best condition possible. I cannot take on responsibilities beyond my real or intended capacities.
For many years, I have had a mutual understanding--offering--with a different friend. Both of us serve one another as ceiling therapists. This service is not daily, per se. As a ceiling therapist, I have agreed to lend an ear, when the need arises. My friend and I have committed a willingness to be available to do nothing more than listen, while my friend gets off her chest whatever problems, or situations are out of control. As a ceiling therapist, I agree to pull my friend off of the ceiling after such overwhelming problems, or situations occur.
At other times, I have served as a control panel specialist, when the need arises. What? A control panel specialist. I provide my friend with basic understanding of how to make the computer, most oftentimes the basic software applications sing as they are designed to sing. Once again, my service as a control panel specialist is provided on an on-call, as needed, basis.
I feel I am falling short of another job I have undertaken--a prison correspondent.
I set high expectations. I fail to give myself credit for what I am doing. The same is true for volunteering that I am doing. Yet, with my volunteering, I know that the sheer contact with people is tremendous. That is the part of my job commitment to myself.
So, does any of that contain a pearl of wisdom that I could have offered my friend last night? I do not intend to present myself as some sage--some sole source of wisdom to my friend. I knew most of what I expressed here last night.
Yet, as much as I value words, I could not find the words to convey an oftentimes unattractive truth: Life isn't perfect. I couldn't bring myself to say, "The party's what you make it," as a travel acquaintance once said. Both truths seemed to trivialize the desire of my friend to create for herself a life of service--grand service.
For many years, I resisted sage advice my mother offered over and over and over. "Focus on the positive, and ignore the negative." I resisted her advice. Though the first part, "Focus on the positive," made complete sense to me, I could not reconcile, "ignore the negative." The "negative" that I was fighting was hurtful reality hurled at me repeatedly.
It took me many years to understand a difficult, yet extremely valuable truth that I try to live by today.
Each problem--each situation--whatever it may be, has some lesson that it offers me to learn from.
I have a choice. Do I want to attend to the lesson--seek answers--or do I want to wallow in life's imperfections?
My choice may be warped by the many years I have been in formal classrooms, be they pre-school, special education, the regular classroom, college, or graduate school. Yet, again and again, I come back to my choice--I must attend to the lessons. I must seek answers.
Yet, who among us live lives of grand service--or grandiose service?
Do we lose track of the gifts we have been given to offer, when we try to pursue grandiose service?
Do we lose track of what good there may be in grandiose service, when we try to create it for ourselves?
I don't know the answers. Yet, I commit to seek the answers as a friend, as a daughter, as an aunt, as a sister, as a neighbhor, and as a seeker of truth, who has been blessed with an amazing worship community.
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