Present Purpose
I have a bold suggestion, and I hope I don't offend anyone when I say, let's stop asking children and adults, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" or "What do you want to do with your life?" Or (if we want to spiritualize it), "What is your life's purpose?" Every time someone has asked me this question, from my teen years to very recent adulthood, I have always wanted to answer, "How should I know?"
Every time I was presented with some variation of this, I felt like a failure. Inherent in the question is the assumption of self-knowledge and clairvoyance that I never possessed. Not since I was a very young child did I have a confident answer (I wanted to be a ballerina/missionary/doctor/mom). When I got to high school and talk of college began, I became increasingly nervous. I didn't know what I wanted out of life. I was reassured by kind adults who saw my potential for greatness. "Don't worry, you'll figure it out as you age." I went to college and hoped for some clarity. I declared seven majors, yes, seven. I expected to gain a deep peace with each major and clarify my purpose. Finally, I settled on the degree in which I had enough credits to graduate on time: Creative Writing.
I kept waiting for that clarity those adults were speaking of, but the older I got, the more unclear my life's purpose became. Right after I graduated, I couldn't find a job in writing, so I became a nanny for two girls who were two years old and three months old. Depressed and confused, I did my best to make the job fun for the kids and myself. I would develop activities that helped with speech and dexterity and record videos of different milestones in their life. Well-meaning adults would say, "Well, you can't nanny forever. What do you want to do eventually? What are you working toward?" All my joy and pride in how well I did with the babies evaporated. I was just a nanny, I thought, a nanny with crippling student loan debt.
That Mother's Day, I created a compilation video for the mom I nannied for. The opening credits were a series of photos, including ones from the less glamorous parts of nannying, like food spills and tantrums. Help!, the Beatles' song, played over the montage. The whole thing was edited for comedy. The joke was mostly about how unconventional of a nanny I was. I expected laughs (this video was hilarious), but to my confusion, the mom's laughter turned into tears before the opening credits finished. She missed her kids and was sad to miss some of those moments while working, but she was grateful that I captured them on video. She appreciated having someone who loved, fed, and taught her beautiful children. It wasn't my life's purpose to be a nanny (in reality, I was only working there for a little over a year), but at that moment, being a nanny was purposeful and a blessing to that family.
I am unsure if I really believe in a "life purpose." We can't know that on this mortal plain. If we knew our life's purpose, or another's, we would be God. Many people think their life's purpose is to be a mom or a dad. Some believe their life's purpose is to be a lawyer or doctor. But what happens if, God forbid, you aren't able to perform in those roles like you used to? After all, that is a reality that many people have unfortunately experienced. I think about the White Christmas song, What Can You Do With A General?
What can you do with a general
When he stops being a general?
Oh, what can you do with a general who retires?
For context, Bing Crosby sang this song at a reunion dinner to celebrate his former WWII General, who was sad that he couldn't re-enlist because of his old age. Disappointed in his failing business venture (a ski lodge he owned during the warmest winter on record), the general forgot the blessings he did have (like his loving family and dedicated employees), and he was like, "I give up. I'd rather fight in someone's war." And so the song is mourning the end of a violent past rather than celebrating the joy of a future full of potential and peace.
Transition can make us feel like we have lost our identity. But I think that's because we put so much stock in our roles rather than the blessing of the present moment. When relationships end, our kids grow up and don't need us as much, and when jobs end, we ask, "Well, who am I without my title as a mom, husband, doctor, athlete?" Many of us feel like we should always be reaching for another goal, another mark of growth or evolution. Another thing that will somehow define us or make us worthy, loved, perfect, or, at the very least, okay. We want something that says, "Yeah, you are on the right track. You deserve to be here. You are okay. You're living well."
Recently, I found myself in a significant transition, and I was forced to take each day one at a time. I couldn't think far into the future and make plans. Instead, I had to focus on my present purpose. In my time of prayer and meditation, I realized that this is just how God likes it. I have always been a driven person. I have always been a perfectionist, but God never asked me for perfection. God simply requests my humble presence. The more I didn't know what to do, the more I sought answers in prayer and quiet.
To be clear, I'm not advocating for nihilism -nothing matters or can be known. I'm advocating for faith -I don't know, but I trust that God does. Present purpose doesn't mean being so focused on the present that you never plan ahead. If you feel like you are called to be a nurse, you must do years of education and training. In that scenario, your present purpose might look like you sense God is telling you to go back to school, so you pray about who you should talk to regarding nursing programs, or if you're in nursing school, your present purpose might be studying for your chemistry final.
It's great to have goals but trust me, it's much less frustrating if you try to align those goals with God's will and purpose. Life is so unpredictable that if we try to find our life's significance, identity, or meaning in anything other than the fact that we are divinely created, we will lose it. If you live a surrendered life, you can pivot in times of transition and be fully present. That may mean letting go of something great, but it can also mean being open to life that is better than we could ever imagine. If you are in a difficult season or a time of uncertainty and transition, I pray you have faith and believe the best is yet to come.