The Perfect Job?

Among my current assignments are resting, writing and quite importantly, HAVING FUN. Apparently having fun has much more spiritual value than I have ever thought to consider. So in the process of such, I am exploring and asking myself to what end I should labor.

Months ago, I read this quote in an airport and it has quite stuck to my heart:

"Let each man pass his days in that endeavor wherein his gift is greatest." Prospectus

Which begs the question, WHERE is my gift greatest? And aren't gifts meant to be enjoyed? Is it dreadfully selfish to want to do something I enjoy for the rest of my life? Certainly it is right and good to enjoy yourself sometimes and on this side of eternity, there will be trouble...but overall, is it even possible?

Just in case, I want to draft my ideal occupation. It may change tomorrow, or maybe this evening. Yet even as I write this, I am torn, almost in agony that in the end, I will have to do something I hate or very frightening, futilely dreaming such ideas. Or that I am so unaware of "wherein my gift is greatest" that my dreaming is birthed from the heart of a silly girl that will have to grow up.

Oh, so a draft (why does this feel so committal?) starts like this. I have regular interaction with people in an organic kind of way. This could consist of having multiple work-out partners, an assistant to help with cleaning/cooking, I'd really like a housekeeper friend or a person or two who live with my husband and I for a season, clients whom I make cakes for, clubs I belong to and so on. These people are not in categories per se, such as: person I'm serving, person my friend, person I'm learning from, etc. These labels are not always so helpful. Ministry happens in the course of life happening. Learning happens. Mentoring happens. People who have camped out in climbing the mountain of the Lord are healed and energized to take His hand and keeping walking. Hospitality is a way of living. Tea and bread and fancy dinners and salads for lunch with occasional visitors for the week. Time to be alone is as necessary as water, not only time alone, but time for stillness. Time for reading stories, time for writing and time for puppy cuddling :-) Energy to keep my husband well fed and welcomed home to a clean and peaceful house. It all sounds quite romantic and almost wonderful...but I remember.

I remember a heart that beat with passion when Jesus was loved well by people. I remember a heart of agony over people who were hurt and compelling compassion that sustained the sacrifice that filled the reserves and hopes of others. I remember a little girl who prayed that she would not "settle in the land of mediocrity" when she grew up, a little girl who envisioned herself serving orphans, a little girl who did not shrink in the thought of adversity but swelled up in love and passion to meet it.

A few months ago, just for a moment, I felt a wind and it's blow was of passion. My quick reply was an energetic claim that I didn't want to spend my life hiding in my kitchen but to be blown in such wind of passion. When the wind was gone and the stillness came, I found myself happy to stay home, happy in that very kitchen.

For several days, I've felt a sense of mourning, a sense that I lost something valuable and don't know where to find it. I've lost my license too. Isn't it illegal to drive without one? Yet daily I do. It seems fitting. I've lost something else too and like my license, I have no idea where to find it. When I pray about it, I feel like I'll find it when I need it...but isn't it illegal to drive without one?

Someone recently told me to do what I see myself doing in my dreams. Seriously? Do you KNOW what I dream about? In my dreams, I am doing quite heroic things, going where others fear to tread, dodging evil - oh how often I have run down the stairs to escape evil - flying (this is a recent trend), singing songs of the Lord, escaping a modern day Holocaust, teaching others, jumping out of windows, getting on planes and knowing that I'll stay when others return...oh things that I dream in the night seem in the day as far from my heart as China from the moon with only a boat to travel on!

It's only February. I have a whole year to get some clarity and maybe a wind of passion. Maybe in the end, it won't be terrible. My hope comes from an old story of escapees caught between an ocean and an army with no escape. God tells them to be still. That he'll fight for them. That they'll never never see those enemies again. He tells them to BE STILL. I have a whole year. A whole year.