Leaning back in my desk chair, I wondered how long I would need to work before I could retire. Oh, it felt so good to be able to say that. Finally, after an eternity of years I was normal. Seven and half years in a job (instead of my average two), kids were married (there actually was a little extra money now for fun things….not that our kids weren’t fun….), we’d been on some nice trips, my husband had a good job, I was sleeping well (due to a sedative), and I didn’t seem to be plagued by my past any more. I had arrived. I finally fit into the average middle class life. Finally. I could leave behind the horror of my family of origin and get on with just living. Thank you, God, I thought, for accomplishing Your purpose in me. Your purpose to set me free, so I could be normal.
There I was one evening, sitting on the couch, exhausted, energy sapped, watching TV with my husband, the same thing I did the night before and would probably do the next night if I had my way. “Is this all there is?”…a Breath of Life whispered in my mind’s ear. Was this the normal life I so desired…working so I could retire? What about now? What about the days that were meaninglessly flitting by? What about my heart, shrivelled and dry, made dull by conformity? This was not how I had imagined a normal life would be. Where was the joy? Where was the peace? Was this the life for which God freed me?
Seven months later I left my good job, prepared by Him to walk off the cliff into the unknown (my husband has also accelerated his steps toward a career change). And here I am, a year later, writing of the very things from which I tried so hard to run away. Ironic that fulfillment should come as I embrace (painfully and reluctantly sometimes) the story God has given me and share it as an encouragement to others. Another step toward freedom comes as I accept my uniqueness (not abnormalcy) and rejoice that God has given me words to lift up the downtrodden and bring hope to those burdened with pain. That is the purpose of this blog. If you know of anyone who’s heart is breaking and may receive some refreshment from what I am writing, please share it with them. Freedom is not being worked in me so that I may hoard it for myself; it is being worked in me so I may give it away.