The searching question

I don’t know what I want, so don’t ask me
Cause I’m still trying to figure it out
Don’t know what’s down this road, I’m just walking
Trying to see through the rain coming down
Even though I’m not the only one
Who feels the way I do

I’m alone, on my own, and that’s all I know
I’ll be strong, I’ll be wrong, oh but life goes on
Oh, I’m just a girl, trying to find a place in this world

Taylor Swift “A Place In This World”

There are a million other things I should be doing.

Off the top of my head, three main things come to mind.

Getting some much-needed shut-eye. Meeting brand new friends and foes in the pages of hardcovers. And taking care of my mountain of laundry – some clean, some dirty. Though all are important in their own right, I’d say laundry tops the list. Not to mention, I’m one step away from Narnia, that’s how far I’ve reached into my closet to locate clean clothes.

All of that can wait. When the sleeping, reading, and laundering has been abandoned for weeks, what’s one more day?

I’m making a choice to be here. On this blog, in this place where random strangers stumble upon my fumbled phrases, to think aloud. About me. Not in a selfish-it’s-all-about-me manner. Except, I’m guessing a self-titled blog kind of screams the opposite.

As a curious individual, I ask questions. Sometimes annoying the stink outta friends and family with my incessant “20 questions” sessions.

Over the course of my lifetime, of all the questions I pose to friends and mentors, this is the one I ask the most.

What is my story? Why am I here?

Cliche much? I know. That’s why I throw in the occasional.

“What am I supposed to do with my life?”

“Is that why I went through all that junk?”

“I know there’s a reason for this… so, what’s the reason?”

“God’s got a great plan…I just want to know what it is.”

“I feel like I’m on the right track…is there a right track?”

(Add your own questions to my list of life-searching inquiries).

These, and many more, have always been questions I ponder – aloud, silently, in prayer. And every season of life, I think that I’ve exhausted all the questions. That I’ve asked them all. That I won’t need to ask ever  again.

Wrong on so many levels.

I’m spinning in a roundabout searching for myself. I know the basics of who I am, but I struggle to define who I am. Although, I am able to answer that question in interviews. And I can define myself fairly well. But to really answer the question, I have no clue. I don’t know who I am.

Except, I do.

I’m a daughter, a child of God, a friend, a cousin, a niece, a neighbor, a co-worker, a girl…I know those things.

But who am I? Who am I supposed to be?

It’s a constant search. A Where’s Waldo on every page, in every chapter of this life I lead.

I guess, if I look at it glass half-full, it’s a good thing. Continually searching hints at my love for life-long discovery and learning – always striving to grow and mature as an individual.

Most of the time, I look at it glass half-empty. I want answers. Waiting through the discovery process drains me.

Maybe that’s the point. To need the search for who I am. To wind up winded and leaning up against a tree, falling to bended knee.

While I know that the search is not in vain, I sometimes feel like I care too much about my own search and not about other people’s lives.

I wonder if I’m called to just let go of all the things I think I want or need and become some kind of Mother Theresa. Move to some remote village and serve the people there. Sell all my possessions and help someone truly in need. Ya know, go all out.

Finding my specific path has never been simple. It’s wrought with agony, tears, and living on a prayer.

It’s tough to explain to the naked eye. The expert who doesn’t know me, or thinks they “get” me. I am not a complete gypsy, wandering aimlessly. But I can’t look someone in the eye and tell them point-blank who I want to be or what road I want to travel.

I know and I don’t know. Simultaneously.

That’s why I’m here. Asking you my age-old question, hoping maybe you’re a few steps ahead of me on this crazy, twisted path.

What is my story? Why am I here?


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