300 - Point, Purpose And Perspective

There's something very fun about teaching another person a new skill, especially one that they really want to know. Sharon and I had a wonderful day in the studio yesterday complete with laughter, learning, and a leisurely lunch. I'll tell you more about it tomorrow. Today's posting will be long enough - and late - since my first available writing slot was at 9 p.m last night and I curled up with a book, read for an hour, and went to bed instead.

It was incredibly difficult to sit on the couch this morning and be available. Running downstairs to write called strongly and appeared much more attractive. There are three things that I'm not very good at - doing nothing, being out of control, and meaninglessness. I like to be active even if that activeness is in my mind as it works to resolve an issue while giving the appearance of staring into space. I like to know what's going on around me, where the edges are, and what direction I'm heading in. I like to know what the goal is, what the steps are, and especially what the point is. Why am I doing this particular action? What does it mean? Where is it going? Sometimes one task of importance conflicts with another task of importance.




I'm working on the Vogue Knitting, Winter 2009, Crossover Top using twice re-fashioned yarn. In its third rendition, the yarn is looking fabulous, forming a soft yet firm cloth. I'm making this design because it's a simple knit one, purl one pattern that can be easily put down and picked up again. I'm knitting on the couch, in the living room, facing the hallway, so that I can see the boys and they can see me. Whenever they are near, I put down my knitting and refocus on them. There are rewards. In the past week, both my boys, and especially my youngest son, have come to sit in the living room and talk. And that's the point. Life is about relationships.

Part of me is antsy and anxious to get to the "real" job of writing, to run down to my studio and be creative, to absorb all the energy of that space and advance my own interests. Another part of me wants desperately to be there for my boys, to develop strong bonds, to listen to their humour and their pain, to touch and interact, and hug them goodbye and wish them a good day. Over the two hours that I'm sitting there it often seems as if I'm not needed or even wanted, often it's boring. I have to remind myself that people are more important than creativity, that I am planting seeds as teachers, pastors, and parents do. I remind myself that while I don't see results immediately and may not see them for years, this task is of gravest importance. It's hard. I prefer quicker results.

In Sunday's sermon, the pastor gave a quote that I wish I had written down. Unfortunately, he's out of town for the next week so I can only offer the paraphrased version. In essence, it said that each person has a purpose and that for some that purpose is big and visible and known to many and for others that purpose is smaller and less visible and may never be known by any. When you really think about that, it is powerful. It speaks to not measuring how big and wide a purpose or an action is but to simply defining your purpose and then living into it day by day, going where it leads, doing what needs to be done.

Several years ago, I defined my purpose as to support and encourage others to their best. I'm very comfortable with that sentence. When I think back over my life, I can see how that purpose is evident in the careers and relationships that I've had. I can see it in my personality and my way of being. And then, there's the flip side.

A few weeks ago, in another sermon, the pastor talked about our culture's need for power, success, comfort, and recognition. If you were to read my high school yearbook, you'd see that my goal at graduation was to be someone. I'm thrilled that my self esteem has significantly improved from the implications of that statement and yet, I am aware enough to know that I crave big and recognition. One of the greatest learnings of my sabbatical is how to be still, and small, and silent, how to go through each day doing the activities that I know are important even as they infringe on the ones I'd rather be doing. I don't like to cook and clean and grocery shop. I'd rather sew and knit and write.

Monday was an interesting day. After Kyle left for school, I put a chicken carcass on to simmer, cleaned the house upstairs and down, rotated two loads of laundry, popped down to the grocery store to pick up fruit and vegetables, unloaded the groceries, cut up the older fruit into a salad, mixed up two loaves of banana bread and baked those while mixing up the meatloaf for dinner and getting vegetables ready to cook. Still baking, I folded two more loads of laundry, picked the chicken bones, and started chopping and cooking vegetables for soup. The banana loaves finished, I rotated in granola while making Kyle's lunch for work that night and trying to determine how to juggle what needed to be done by when. Glancing up, I noticed the time and the first thought that popped into my head was crap, it's already one o'clock and I haven't done anything yet. THAT is both incredibly interesting and too funny.

What is doing something? What is being someone? I'm sure we all have a different definition and I'm equally sure that we all have contradictions between our definitions and our thoughts and actions. Is doing something only about earning income? Is it only about being creative? Is it only about being big and recognized? Is being someone a role outside of the home complete with a title, corner office, and attache case or is it equally being a wife, and mother, and friend, and personal creative?

My reaction shows that on some internal level, I have assigned more meaning and purpose to certain tasks and less to others and yet the same me knows that sitting on the couch, being available, while seemingly doing nothing, along with making a home, is the most important thing that I could be doing right now. It's MY task of the moment. Those chats and cuddles, coming from 17 and 21 year old young men, are certainly proof.

When I die, I don't want my children to resent all the creative endeavours I participated in. I want them to see that creativity in their own way of being, to be grateful for where it comes from and what it brings to their life, to know for a fact how much I loved them, to recognize that I put them first in as many ways as I possibly could, and that I encouraged both them and myself to fulfill our purpose and our potential.

This is my 300th posting. If you check back, you'll see that every one hundred posts, I take the opportunity to review the directions I'm heading in and determine whether they are healthy and positive or need adjustment. That 300 comes one week into my new fall routine is somewhat ironic and somewhat comforting. It tells me to hang in there. I may not be sewing as much as I like but I'm still sowing - love and potential.

Have a great day. Talk soon - Myrna

Grateful - a rented house, an apartment and a job in a new city, and my daughter and son-in-law making progress after some setbacks. YES YES. God is good.