Looking for My Match

 “Be who God meant you to be and you will set the world on fire.”

St. Catherine of Siena

I find this quote fitting for the beginning of a new year, especially this new year.  For the past couple of years, I have been wondering who I am.  For the last couple of weeks, I have been pondering my purpose in life.  The last couple of years have shaken my belief in the world, my world.  I have changed.  I want to change more.  Yet, I find I am still very much the person I was before life hit me upside the head to knock me on my backside.

Three years ago, I was a happy wife.  I was a mother of three living children though estranged from one of them.  I hoped for reconciliation.  I was a fantasy writer.  Though not perfect, life was good.  I had written about eight books at this point.  I was in the middle of number nine.  I was scheduled for surgery to replace my hip.  I could barely drive due to the pain.  My mom was doing terrible.  Mental illness had grabbed onto her and wasn’t letting go.  I worried, but God would get me through.

As 2020 progressed, Mom stopped eating and drinking.  My surgery went great, but I couldn’t get into physical therapy.  I finished books nine, ten, and eleven.  Yep, ten books published, and one was being edited.  I still couldn’t drive.  I was being pulled in Mom’s direction, but how do you help someone who doesn’t want help?  I was still raising an anxiety driven child.  My life was unraveling.

No one can help a person who doesn’t want help.  Mom died.  On her death certificate, they wrote suicide by starvation.  June and July were all about the funeral and settling the estate.  In July, I finally got into physical therapy.  August, I rested as we began to look towards my husband deploying to Cuba.  In September, my writing mentor turned against me because of a story I wrote.  He lambasted everything I turned in for the rest of the writing class.  With all the negativity and Jerry leaving, I just started quilting.  Jerry left.  I determined my mission was to get Madelle through her senior year, get through the deployment, and get through my mom’s huge stash of fabric.

My world exploded even more.

The baby with the biggest eyes who made me a mother was shot and killed at the end of November 2020.  My munch, my bear, my Michel left this earth.  The hope of reconciliation with him ended.  I couldn’t save him.  I lost him.  I had failed.  God let me down.  I blamed Jerry.  I blamed myself.  My world ended.  Jerry came home on emergency leave and left again.  We are military.  This is what we do.

I pulled on my combat boots to face 2021.  I wasn’t going to let this experience take me from the world permanently.  The stubbornness kept me going.  Madelle helped.  Clay moved home to help even more.  I bought kayaks.  Jerry made it back only to leave again for a second deployment due to a promotion we couldn’t turn down.  We are military.  Yep, it is what we do.  However, it took its toll.

At the beginning of 2022, I had no idea who God wanted me to be.  I thought He wanted me to be a writer, the mother of three living children, and a wife.  Instead, I faced the coming year not being able to write, the mother of one dead child and two living, and a husband on the other side of the world.  I sat at the sewing machine and lost myself in fabric.  I went through the motions of going to all the church functions.  I prayed.  I searched.  Summer came along and I ignored the kayaks.  I ignored most things besides quilting and church.  I occasionally went out into the garden.  I did what was necessary.  I was completely depressed.  I fought on.  I prayed more.

Jerry came home in November.  The depression lingered sporadically for the first couple of weeks.  He and I left for an adventure.  The depression melted away as the first flight took off leaving the Helena Valley behind us.  I was finally able to run away from my life, from the explosions, even if only for a couple of weeks.  We found ourselves on the vacation.  Yes, I am a wife again!!!  I am meant to be a wife.

Yet, I still am left with questions.  What is my purpose?  Who am I meant to be?  What is my dream?  I have never lived without a dream.  Due to many things, I don’t see myself going back to fantasy writing.  The dream died with everything that happened in 2020.  This year, I will explore nonfiction writing.  My words never have left.  They waited patiently because I just couldn’t face the words until Jerry returned.  He makes me stronger, and I have a feeling I will have to rely on his strength to get through the words that need written, if I find the courage.  I will journal and blog.  Maybe a different writing dream will take hold.  Maybe not.

I have explored and discerned other options of purpose for my life.  I have actually been dreaming some dreams from my childhood.  I have made lists and mission statements.  I know God means me to be his daughter.  I love my relationship with Him.  I am also meant to be a wife (my favorite purpose at the moment) and mom.  I am working out what that means for Michel.  I am learning to be a mom of grownups for Clay and Madelle.  I will continue to quilt and garden.  However, I just feel like God is calling me too more.  I feel there is a bigger purpose.  Maybe it is just a midlife crisis.  

All I know is I am willing to set the world on fire, I just need to find the match.