If wishes were horses…

I wish I made my living doing the things I love. I don’t. I make my living exercising my administrative gifts (1 Cor 12:28) in support of the mission and vision of others. And while I’m really, really good at those things (she says, modestly), I find that I am enjoying them less and less. My mind turns constantly towards the creative, and sometimes it’s hard to push through the task at hand because I’m so distracted by the idea I just had for a new piece or the technique I read about that I’m dying to try. (Like everything in these books, for example.)

I really believe that both my creative urges and my administrative gifts are things God wired into my DNA – it’s part of who I am and what he created me to be. So why does it feel like they are at war right now?? The places and the ways we exercise our gifts matter, of course, so I’m left to wonder if I’m doing the right things in the wrong ways. It’s an interesting – and sometimes painful – exercise that requires a fair amount of thoughtful and honest examination of my heart, my motives, and my life. It means coming face to face with my selfishness and my pride, and continuing the work of rooting them out.

It’s tiring. Exhausting. Emotional.

Maybe it’s that I just turned 50. Maybe it’s that I’m a little jealous of the Marcia deCosters, Jean Powers, and Kate McKinnons of the world, who live their lives as expressions of their craft. Maybe it’s that this appalling economy is affecting me like so many others, and I am struggling to see clearly an opportunity to get clear of the financial weight I’m dragging around.  Maybe it’s that I clearly see God working in the lives of others around me, and I feel – over and over – his admonition to me is to wait, be still, be patient. (This is not something I do well.)

Whatever it is, I’m restless. And longing.  “Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.” (Prov. 13:12) I feel change coming, and I’m willing myself to wait, because I trust that God will show me the next step in his plan for me – in his time. And it’s entirely possible – even likely – that the change I’m anticipating is a change in me rather than a change in my outward circumstances. Like focusing a lens, things will suddenly come into focus, and I’ll be able to settle into my daily existence with contentment instead of this restlessness I’m feeling now.

I’m looking forward to it.

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