What is It???? & Tethered Purpose

"What is It?" displayed on Rocky the horse

     "What is It?" I ask many times as I quizzically inspect bizarre gadgets at the thrift store. I hold them, shake and poke, earnestly prodding for identifying "Investigator Monk" markers. Sometimes a company name or product number continues my no-nonsense Internet searches. My last "What is It?" occurred as I held two small circular objects.

     As I inspect the $1, circular, weighted metal items, my curiosity is mega-piqued. Are they metal pill boxes? No, they have battery compartments. How about secret agent remote controls? No, there are no push buttons. Intriguing markers seem to indicate a unique purpose for these gems... I will persevere! Aha! The microscopic name on the back leads me to a helpful Internet site, selling three-pack, $30, hand-wave-activated, over-the-counter spotlights that now brighten my kitchen's counter tops.

     My pregnant daughter recently sent me a primitive pattern of the above "What is It?" sewing project. Despite being an amateur seamstress, and lacking a try-on-as-I-sew "mannequin," I bravely tackled the labor-of-love adventure (after all, I did have the time). It is now a baby gift for soon-to-be-born grandson #2. She learned from baby #1 that a blanket helps (outdoors or in-transit) to block sunlight, rain, wind, and bugs.

     Pictured below is the canopy tethered to the car seat. It is a pimped-out "DeDe" version, with:

1. One baby-safe treasure pocket for Grandson #1 and one pocket for Mom.
2. A custom, camouflaged top loop to easily hang the canopy on a hook, OR, simply thread the front hem through the same loop, for "festoon"-like (I love that word) fabric folds that billow for precious baby-viewing or fresh air.
3. Side slits at the handle allow for sneak-peeks at the baby.

     The cooperative mannequin above is corralled Rocky the horse. The picture to the left keenly identifies the canopy's beneficial bonus: Two loops tether it to the handle. The charming material helps to muffle out a very busy world for my sleepy grandbaby's cocoon-like, on-the-go siestas.

      Sewing seems to segue to swirling sabbatical thoughts. As a 20-year working-outside-of-the-home mom, I rarely had time to reflect, let alone work on major sewing projects. I awoke each morning knowing my incredible purpose: to perform the triple-jointed gymnastics maneuver of prayerfully raising two children in a safe and nurturing home, while faithfully juggling an array of challenging desk jobs.

      This past sabbatical year was uniquely refreshing. I had, for the first time in years, the humbling and undeserved opportunity to begin each morning with a figurative shake and poke, plus quizzical inspections, looking for my microscopic, God-made imprint... to determine purpose, asking: How may I productively serve You (God) today?

      My sabbatical's blurry, "What is It?"-purpose has been curiously illuminated as I faithfully put one foot in front of the other. Today, for example, I seize the morning by composing the first-draft of this showcasing blog. I experience purposeful, internal satisfaction as a Wordsmith, embellishing last week's 30+-hour seamstress temp job. Soon I will shop and perform various acts of random kindness, like composing get-well wishes for hospitalized Uncle Bob.

     My efforts are somewhat concealed, inspiring this random riddle: What type of pay is given to one who diligently persists, flips a quarter, calls heads or tails, waits, and even when he or she works overtime or the pay doubles, sees no immediate, tangible increase?  Answer: Quarter-lee pay (from Jeffery Lee--I will hopefully earn real money soon).

     Now the riddle turns to a million-dollar question: Am I capable enough to cautiously steer away from independent, sabbatical "industry" and aim for clearly-identified, tethered purpose... a REAL job? After grandson #2's soon birth and daughter-recuperation time, the answer is: Ay, matey, I should be. And upcoming posts will reflect that notion.

     Bonus jabber-fest (click here for "jabber-fest": defined): This Baby Boomer was "someone" once... considered capable, competent, and maybe even the ever-yearned-for, pretty. I am beginning to understand that graceful aging and soulful sabbaticals are not for sissies. Embracing the spirited thoughts below will encourage positive follow-through after a most incredible 12 months:

• Sew (eerrr... Sow) your seed in the morning, and at evening let not your hands be idle, for you do not know which will succeed, whether this or that, or whether both will do equally well (Ecclesiastes 11:6).

• ...for God will bring every deed into judgment, including every hidden thing, whether it is good or evil (Ecclesiastes 12:14).

Put out to Pasture? Hugo-cious

     Lately, it has not been unusual for me to begin randomly crying (maybe it's allergies). During my afternoon walk (oh, I needed that walk) I started tearing up thinking about my old job, and how I tried to be a better-than-good employee. I initiated creating a manual with instructions for my different tasks; organized, and re-organized the office; edited and revised my IT boss's lengthy, technical, detailed emails to help his ideas communicate clearly and effectively; and many more tasks and relational intangibles.

    I felt, however, that after 7 1/2 value-adding years, the department desperately needed a "techy" programmer reinforcement… so after a year of fighting that uncomfortable idea, and finding no compelling jobs for which to apply, I was urgently drawn to a writing "sabbatical." It was sort of a win/win, as memoir-writing seemed to be calling my name. Unfortunately, no salary came with that calling; yet, I dubiously resigned, and now ask: Why after a year do I still feel so sentimental and useless?

     I miss the coffee-break chats and the purposeful sense of being a part of something important and bigger than myself. Writing has been beneficial, yet I now ponder: "Are my children and husband proud of me?"

     I so wanted my “career” to end on a high note, and earning an income would certainly help our budget. Isn’t age 57 a bit young to be put out to pasture?

     I arrive home from my walk and the tears subside. I remove my walking shoes, spray my hair and nostrils, and clean my face. Passing by the living room's red chair, I stop and earnestly pray "Please send a 'Hugo' to reveal my renewed purpose!" (I've been stopping at that chair a lot lately), and the embarrassing, sobbing, ugly cry begins...

     In the movie "Hugo," a forgotten, disillusioned, put-out-to-pasture elderly couple's valuable, lost silent film creations are re-discovered by persistent, precocious Hugo. Hugo realized that his purpose was to fix things, and that he did for a grateful couple. I long to rekindle my value and purpose, and I identify with forgotten, broken, aging, disenchanted feelings. Oh, I dreamily and reticently yearn for a "hugo-cious" redemption.

     After 20 years of working outside the home, this year-long "sabbatical" is making me a bit "looney-tunes." Maybe this whimsical, vintage IT Help Desk cartoon will help to reboot my morale today with a desperately-needed chuckle.