Photo of Marvin Newman
Figuring out who you are. Not one snowflake has ever been repeated. No two grains of sand, nowhere on Earth, are the same. Not one leaf, in the history of leaves, has ever been identical. Guess we should take the hint, that the Creator isn’t allergic to unique.
And then comes time, random acts of life, wins ‘n losses, hurts ‘n heartbreaks, broken ‘n put back together. That’s when we really become unique. Even identical twins might as well be their own species.
Figuring out the purpose of life. All a person has to do to cure themselves of eat, drink, and be merry, is to spend serious time doing nothing but eating, drinking and being merry. The more you do it, the emptier you get.
There’s gotta be more.
Hate to break the news, but when you start looking for purpose, don’t expect to find the answer in science. Purpose is too-something, for science. Science just tells you to procreate, wink/wink, but hey, there’s gotta be something more.
When you go looking for purpose, you’re looking for your religion. You don’t have to call it religion, but that’s what your answer is. Don’t be surprised if you get it wrong, at first. Your emptiness is both measurement and motivator. It’ll send you back to class, or church, or head, or heart. The good news is that God wants you to find purpose too.
Figuring out your purpose within life. When we were kids, we were asked, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” For most people, that’s not purpose, that’s occupation. Very often, we don’t even get paid for purpose. Creating, repairing, maintaining, parenting, caregiving, exampling, providing, sticking with, loving anyway: we do it because it is The Thing before us, and it needs to be done.
In truth, most of us have a closet full of purpose. Some of it, we don’t wear anymore. We did it, and we’re past it. Or we go put it on, like grass cutting clothes, and then put it away, until next time.
One of the surprises of aging is the simplifying of purpose. Our audience gets smaller, but it matters more. Most people think of family as primary audience. But truth is, our two constants in life, through every single moment, was ourselves, and our Creator. It matters, greatly, what He and we, think of our lives.
Getting good at handling opinions. Good luck with that. If we don’t hear them, we imagine them. If we say them, we can’t take them back.
Figuring out you ‘n God. One thing for sure, however it goes, He won’t be the problem.
Figuring out you ‘n spouse. Imperfect meets imperfect. At best, it’s imperfectly perfect.
Figuring out you ‘n children. This is God’s way of making you glad that you aren’t God. Imagine having children, by the billions…
Figuring out what’s broke in you, and fixing it. We are broken mirrors, each ‘n every one of us. Some never see it, some never face it. Those that do, seek help from other people, who are also broken mirrors.
Option C is our Creator. He ain’t much for fast, but He’s certainly qualified for fixing.
Respecting time. Irony isn’t it, that we take time for granted, until we catch the hint, that we are on the short wick season of the candle.
Learning how to be a caregiver. Speaking of God jobs…
Learning how to heal. “Learning” is the wrong word. The right word is “trusting” in healing. Time after time, over time, healing is always slow, but its always happening. The best thing about my life’s worst things, is that I trust the process. Its never just about being put back together; there’s always an improvement. The best of me, the part I trust the most, are the breaks, that aren’t broken anymore, the holes that aren’t holes anymore.
Facing death. That’s the ultimate in privacy. That’s also the ultimate in unique. I suspect (hope) that it is also the ultimate in intimacy, that God is there, because we are a priority.
If life had a prayer:
“You could’ve made us like the animals, living, but missing the spark, of spirit, of self.
“Instead, You gave us a blank canvas, and free will, free to color outside the lines.
“But You also gave us some unseen inner gauge, that reads hot ‘n cold, right ‘n wrong, near ‘n far, from You. We are not trying to mess up, we are just finding our way, to the right way. Your help would be appreciated.”
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This concludes this edition of Uncle P’s Bedtime Stories. To put Uncle P in his place, or to put him in your will, or to put him behind a microphone, he can be reached at eightyoneantiques@gmail.com.
His four books can be found at Expressions (3100 Ryan Street in LC), and at Flock o’ Five (217 E. Thomas in Sulphur.)
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