My first month as a 40-year-old has been… a doozy.
The morning my sister and I were returning from a lovely stay on Whidbey Island in Langley, WA, for my birthday, we were told that our childhood friend passed away suddenly.
He was only 42.
We came home and spent the rest of the week grappling with the loss and saying our final goodbyes.
Two weeks later, a friend lost their father, and another lost her brother.
And again, uninvited and unwelcome, death showed up.
I have felt devastated for our friends who all now have a new normal to figure out without their loved ones, but I have also wondered if I am prepared to face such a loss.
You never can be — death is unexpected.
Even when someone is battling a long illness, you don't know when it will come. You think you are prepared, but you never truly are.
Death comes like a thief in the night.
I have lived in this ideal, rosy, Care Bear-like world where my parents and sister are immortal.
But the last month has been this harsh wake-up call that life is fleeting.
The real question I am asking that I always ask when faced with death is, am I living my life to its fullest extent?
If today were my last day, would I rest in peace knowing I actually ran the race and finished it?
Because if I'm being honest — my ass feels like it is still at the starting line, and that gun went off like 2 hours ago.
The last month has felt like a constant reminder that I missed the starter pistol.
I feel like Captain Hook, who was constantly afraid of that crocodile/clock that he kept hearing ticking away.
What's making things worse is that I have no idea what I want to do or accomplish.
Even Hook had a goal, for goodness sake!
He was a psycho, but damn, the dude knew what he wanted to do.
I cannot say the same.
I don't know what I'm passionate about.
I don't know what my end goal is.
I don't have a bucket list of things I want to achieve.
I don't know…
I literally do not know!
And now, here I am, six months into 2023, and I couldn't tell you the difference between "come here" and "sic 'em."
That's how little I know.
Shouldn't I know what I want by now?
Shouldn't I know what my dreams are?
Is it normal to be 40 and have no clear vision or goal?
Mama Oprah would say it is not normal.
I mean, I used to have dreams and goals.
When I was little, I dreamed of being a teacher.
But that eventually became a reality that I achieved and excelled at.
So… now what?
In high school and college, I dreamed of attending Hillsong College (tbh, dodged a bullet with that one, now that we know what we know). I wanted to be a world-renowned worship leader.
I dreamt of leading worship worldwide in arenas and stadiums. Although I had several opportunities to lead worship in different places for different people, those big dreams were never realized.
Not that they still can't be, but now the mere thought of being in a place with more than ten people in a room has me sweating and panicking. #ThanksalotCOVID
Plus, ya girl hasn't picked up a mic in a HOT minute. So… there's a chance I sound like my tone-deaf maternal grandmother.
As foolish as all those dreams may have been at one point, I at least still had them.
Now I look at myself, and it is like that big dreamer in me died when I became an adult with a job, mortgage, and bills.
I forgot what it was to dream, hope…. and think BIG PICTURE.
The big picture now?
I'm just trying to make sure I have enough money in the bank to pay my bills and the damn kid who mows the lawn every two weeks!
I work in a corporate tax department, surrounded by people who mostly seem settled and happy with where they are and what they do.
And, despite all the skills I've acquired here, it does not fulfill me or provide a sense of purpose.
It pays the bills and the lawn kid.
But is this all my life is meant to be?
Coming to work every day, paying bills, repeating the same routine over and over again until I die??
I keep asking God, "You mean to tell me I've experienced and survived all the trauma and bullshit just to be HERE? To do THIS? That can't be right."
And now, with all these reminders of how short life is, I am even more anxious.
Yet, I can't find a reason to get unstuck!
And it hasn’t always been this way.
It's just been in the last couple of years.
I can’t find reasons to get unstuck because I don't know what I am supposed to do next, and I don't even know where to start.
It's not as simple as just "looking for another job" or taking some career aptitude test.
Because it's not the job that is the problem.
If I had to stay in this tax department forever to pay my bills, that's fine.
It’s the other 128 hours a week that I’m thinking about.
I still need to do something with my life that makes me feel like it all means something….
That I meant something….
Like my time on earth wasn't just a waste….
But right now, I feel purposeless.
Rudderless.
Aimless.
Truth be told, a part of me expected to be "rewarded" for my obedience when I resigned two years ago.
I believed, and still do, that I was being obedient to what God was asking me to do —that He had something more significant for me, and I needed to leave where I was and follow Him.
So I did.
After the dust settled, I saw it as a "quid pro quo," and that opportunity would fall in my lap.
I was God's pet dog, and He had just taught me a new command, and I was waiting to be rewarded with a treat.
"You were obedient? Good girl!! Here's your new purpose and goal for your life!”
I mean….I don't find that very unreasonable, do you?!
Isn't that how we were taught God operates?
"God honors those who honor Him."
*sigh*
Which is very true.
He does honor those who honor him.
What isn't true is that He does things the way we want.
So, perhaps He has honored my obedience, maybe just not how I expected or wanted.
And because that "reward" didn't show up how I wanted, I don't know what I'm supposed to do now.
I don't know where to go from here.
I don't know what to do next.
I don't know what I want.
I don't even have an idea of a dream.
I feel so….lost.
And I know being lost is okay.
I should have some grace for myself.
"Not all who wander are lost," right?
No one is forcing me to have things all figured out by a certain time except me.
And it’s not that I expected to have it all worked out by 40.
I just thought I would have an idea.
Not even multiple ideas.
At least one.
I just feel like the world is moving and shaking….while I'm standing still.
While everyone is achieving and living, I feel like I'm just failing and dying.
….like the crocodile and its ticking clock is getting closer and growing louder every day.
I just can't shake the sense that I'm falling behind or running out of time.
