It's not about me.
This is what I keep coming back to, the truth that saves me, this awareness that it's not about me.
My life, ultimately, thankfully, is not about me. It's meant to be about pouring joy into the people around me and, above all else, enskying God. Soli Deo Gloria.
Much of my so-called-mid-life-crisis has centered around this notion of wretched ordinariness, of feeling unchallenged, untapped. Of watching my innate abilities collect dust on the shelf of my daily life.
I won't plague you with details, but it would suffice to say that I have no clearly defined answers right now. I want to be patient, but at the same time, if God's deliberately equipped me for something specific and I'm just missing the memo, I'd like to stop squandering time.
Until this sorts out, I'm reminded to give the everyday tasks my unfettered best...be it stitching careful seams, reading board books with animation, or swabbing the kitchen floor to aseptic status. Even when it feels banal, prosaic.
Because it's not about me.