I like to sandwich my deep thoughts in between another more frivolous post. It usually helps the skim-at-the-blog-picture readers see "what's up" with the K-dawgs and then move on without digging into my brain. For those sweet people who read this far, thanks!
Do you ever feel like there should be a bigger purpose to your life, but maybe you just aren't cut out for it, so God hasn't bothered using you for anything? This isn't a woe-is-me sermon, so don't get all set to tell me some line of "Ah, you're doing great." in the comment section. Just read.
I never thought as an adult, surrounded by an awesome family, that I would feel a little sad when a friend moved, or threatened to move away. Losing a handful of friends in my little circle, along with some actions of another person, recently left me feeling rather isolated and alone here in my small town.
But there MUST be a purpose for why I am still here in this silly podunk town where people keep killing each other. Thousands of miles away from my family. Far from the support system of my church family.
When Keith and I moved here to our little digs in Connect-i-cut I felt this overwhelming feeling that I had just come home. That we were meant to be here, not just in Connect-i-cut, but here in our town. To our chagrin we learned after renting our apartment that the majority of our church ward lived far away. We shrugged it off and tried to immerse ourselves in our community. And from that came an amazing blessing. I found myself surrounded by incredible people, with stories and paths that were far different from my own and have taught me much about being a better mother, wife, and friend.
But when Keith lost his job last year, my heart soared with the possibility that we were going to be able to move closer to our families (that was before it crashed into the ground and I spent the next 6 months epoxying it together piece by piece as I tried to salvage myself from a lovely case of post-pardum). We were so excited about the prospect of moving back home that we refused to look at the answer God was trying to quietly show us. When we saw that answer and it was obvious that was the plan, I was momentarily heartbroken.
We were to stay.
Here.
So now I ask myself "What can I do for You?" I don't imagine myself doing something amazing, but something quiet. I don't think that God has a plan for me, perhaps there was someone in my plan to help me, or if there is some bigger purpose for me being here, then I'm setting off on this journey and opening my heart and my soul to listen more carefully.
Therefore, I'm giving myself permission to be patient.
To look for new paths to start down.
To be thankful for the people I still have in my daily life, especially my sweet husband and children. To be thankful that we have a home, and try to do the best that I can with what I've been given, despite it being far from home.
Because this is where I am supposed to be. This is where God wants me to make my home.
Am I allowed to sigh?
