I realized the couch had reached its destination, but that its utility had been in the journey. I finally understood, kind of, that saying about the journey being more important than the destination, or however the saying goes.
I've always hated the saying. For me, destination equalled something I wanted, something I was looking forward to. The journey was torture, the waiting, the anticipation (and the possibility that the destination may not be a good enough payoff for the journey). I tended to take "journey" quite literally like family road trips, or junior high, high school and college -- times where I always felt I was "waiting for my real life to begin."
But I realized I had that same mentality when it came to work. I tend to leave jobs on other people's terms. There was one place where I thought I would work there until I retired. Once a year we'd have our service awards and someone who had been there 25, 30, 35 years would get up and give a speech. I was amazed and how much they gave given towards the success of the organization and I imagined myself one day up there on stage giving a speech myself. But after eight years, they'd had enough of me and kicked me to the curb. In retrospect, that was good as my wife said I was probably clinically depressed for my last two years there and some pretty phenomenal things have happened since then.
But this isn't about that, this is about me sitting on the curb, used up, discarded, told I was no longer valuable to the organization I had given eight years of my life to. I had quit my job, moved our family 1,100 miles to a new state because I thought God had told me, and then thought my employment with this organization (a Christian non-profit) was confirmation that I was following God's direction. It's entirely possible that this was true at the time. (Moving my family back 1,100 miles since then has been great, but again, not about that.)
Because sitting on the curb (or rather, sitting in Costco getting a new cell phone since I had turned in my company-issued phone earlier that day), I questioned what was the point of it all. I couldn't see the journey, the contributions, how I had been instrumental for a time, perhaps what the organization needed, possibly even some aspects of my work living on after my departure, all I could see was -- as they say on American Idol -- I had come to the end of my journey.
And the destination seemed pretty crappy.
But when I looked at the couch yesterday, I realized that it wasn't a bad investment because it was being thrown out, that it had been desired, specially chosen, and then served dutifully for who knows how long, through scary movies, exciting video games, distressing breaking news. It may have been enjoyed by kids or pets or served as a temporary home for someone. It might have seen multiple homes. For that couch, it was definitely all about the journey and not the destination.
If life is a journey, there's quite a bit that's not so fun about our current journey, I find myself not so much wishing for my final destination, but knowing whenever it comes, it's going to be heartbreaking (and cruel) for those I leave behind. Not because I'm going to exit in a cruel way but because I'm responsible for people who will never be able to take care of themselves, one of whom won't understand why I'm no longer around.
So this whole journey/destination thing applied to my life is still a struggle for me to make sense of, but I think I can now better understand how to handle sudden destinations not of my choosing.
No comments:
Post a Comment