Purpose, from a La-Z Boy Chair.

It started with a discussion on calling. I don't know what this means anymore; I've analyzed and reanalyzed it in my head so many times that I have completely confused myself. But on that day, June 29, that I returned from the annual guitar nerd convention that usually marks my year, half hungover and completely sleep deprived (we had a 7am flight, and my boss insisted that we stay up all night with 12 bottles of wine instead of sleeping), I laid down in my bed on a Monday morning for a well-deserved four hour nap and was awoken by the strangest news.

"Baltimore."

Huh? It took me almost an hour to come out of my grogginess, not feeling refreshed from my half night's sleep at all. That was not my favorite place. I love cities, but never really got attached to that one. No desire to move anywhere, thanks. Especially not East. Been there, done that. I hate snow.

And so the news broke that Paul's company wanted us to move to Baltimore. This job "offer," ultimately rejected, sent us on a now two-month journey into rediscovering purpose in our lives, and sent us into many late-night conversations about why we live where we live, what we want life to be like, our greatest ambitions for our careers, our deepest dreams for our daughters. It's a conversation that we haven't had in a long time. Something was moving us to discuss this thing called life that has been blowing by us with such great rapidity as we go through the mundane week after week, feeling little respite and rejuvenation. 

But it's not rest that we're seeking. 

When we moved to LA 7 years ago, I was ready to plant down roots. We had moved three times in the span of two years; I was sick of it. I wanted to settle into the City of Angels, sprawling though it was, and take it by storm. And so I did. We lived here. We love it. We had babies. We bought a house.

I guess once in awhile God does something to shake life up a bit. I am not sure why. I would be perfectly content going about life, playing this game of trying to get my kids to bed as early as possible, surviving until the next weekend that comes up. But that is no way to live life, is it? I realized that we had settled into child-rearing like it was a La-Z Boy Chair. Just trying to be as comfortable as possible in something that could potentially be really ugly. (Case in point. I realized a year ago when we were furniture shopping that I really love recliner chairs. We always had one in my house growing up. Paul thinks I'm weird.) Bad analogy. Children are beautiful, yadda yadda, I love mine to pieces and would give all my organs for them if they ever learned to ask politely...but it's really hard. The rearing part, I mean.

I digress. Basically, I haven't thought about my life in awhile. The more we talked about it, the more we realized this. Why haven't we thought about life in awhile? 

The more questions we asked, the more questions came. In short, I found myself on a hot July day at the Glendale Galleria (a big mall) trying to return something, as I have a habit of doing. I was driving up and down the aisles of the huge parking structure looking for a spot, trying to decide whether to park in front of Target or Macys. Hmm, decisions. Suddenly, it happened. The song "Oceans" came on in my Spotify playlist, and something hit me like a ton of bricks. As the music swelled into the repetitive middle section and the ambient keyboard got drowned out by the crooning vocals, these lyrics echoed through me:

Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders

Let me walk upon the waters

Wherever You would call me

Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander

And my faith will be made stronger

In the presence of my Savior

Me: (in my head) Oh, no, no, no. I'm not letting go of this place I call home, this comfortable, sunny life, this routine I have. I have a good thing going here. 

This went on for a few minutes. I started crying. And then I felt this:

God: Follow me. Let this place go. Let LA go. 

I will call upon Your name

Keep my eyes above the waves

My soul will rest in Your embrace

I am Yours and You are mine

At this point, there is something being wrenched from my heart. It's painful. I think it's some kind of idol. My clenching onto of all that has become familiar and easy. And then I felt broken. I was weeping. I was still looking for parking. It felt symbolic somehow. I was, at that point, bawling, and I couldn't see very well. It all felt so futile. I finally found a spot very far from the Macy's entrance, and took a few minutes to collect myself.

God chooses the strangest places to intervene. 

So here we are. We are following, we are listening, we are waiting. Things are not clear yet. But one thing is clear to me. I am called to live my life with more purpose than I am doing now. 

To be continued.

-----

PS. E asked me a funny question tonight.

E: When I was a baby and I was in your tummy, who did I play with?

Me: Well, you were alone in there. So I don't think you played with anyone.

E: Well, what did I eat? And drink?

Me: Um, fluid. Kind of like water. Maybe you played with me sometimes. I could feel you kicking. And hiccuping.

E: What did it sound like?

Me: (makes cute hiccuping noises)

E: Well, maybe I was doing a joke! 

Me: Maybe.