The Search

It seems to me that we are all searching for something. Some of us have figured out what that something is while others of us have not. I have lived the vast majority of my life feeling like I was on the outside looking in. An observer if you will, and a willing one at that. While for some outsiders, there is a sense of longing to get to the inside, I have been content to hold my position, nose pressed to the window and wait. The problem is that I never knew what I was waiting for. Some people think that this may be a sad way to live, but it has served me well. During my career as an apparel buyer, it was because of my being an outsider, that I could so clearly see what people wanted next and stay ahead of the trends. In my career as a manager it has enabled me to read people quickly, and make good hiring choices.

Since being diagnosed, I have realized that my life is not about my career, however. I no longer receive my identity, by what I do, and rather by who I am. This shift has been subtle and yet a quick one. One of the gifts of the shift is an amazing increase in self confidence. Being my job, I was never good enough, never "ahead" enough. Being me, I am strong and can take on anything that life throws at me. I can also relax more now. Before, if I had a day off, I couldn't really enjoy it because I knew something somewhere was about to go wrong. I'd call work just to check in. I look back and see a man who didn't trust himself and therefore could not trust the world. Today, I trust that God has it all handled, so I don't have to. That in itself is a relaxing thought.

Yesterday I returned home from seeing my Dad in Texas for the second time in a month. This time I was able to stay longer which was a good thing. It feels like I have a lot of years to make up for. Just sitting around and talking, I became painfully aware of what I've missed over the years. I look back and think how many times I couldn't go back to see him because I was "blocked" during the holidays or had a set up that prevented me spending early spring with him. On and on... I listened to my Dad and Doris talking about holidays past, visits and vacations that I was not a part of. I realized with a bit of shock that I did not have cherished memories of the times I spent at work while they were gathered at the Thanksgiving table. What was it that I was searching for back then. I clearly didn't want to "fit in". I didn't want to be a family. Now I realize that I am part of a family, we all are. Sure we can choose to reject it, but that doesn't make it go away. Those people are all still there, building memories. Going home to see my Dad, it surprises me just how easy it is to be part of a family. You just have to show up. Being willing to share makes the experience even richer. Listening makes it even more so.

We search and search only to find sometimes, that we are enough, just being who we are. Home is not a destination, it is a place in our hearts. Granted sometimes that place in our hearts has a destination attached to it. For some it has a time line attached to it. Yet it seems, once again by observation, that for the truly free there are no strings attached.