Purpose and plastic chairs

It was the first time I’d heard this. Ever.

It was remarkable.

In those few captured moments, in the whiteness of the sunlit room.

The blandness of the plastic chairs.

The sense of people gathering to share and learn.

And here, the most important learning of all for me. The most important thing I heard that day.

Maybe that year.

That it’s ok.

I stared astonished. Because no one had ever told me this.

For the previous three weeks I had been working on the Otomí language project with a gentle missionary who showed love to all and made no judgements. She asked me questions and listened to my meandering thoughts graciously, as if she truly wanted to know, as if she even felt she could learn from me.

That morning, we had left our Ixmiquilpan garden bungalows in the golden dawn, beating the urban rush as we travelled to Mexico City for a retreat day. We’d arrived at the conference centre a little early in the end and I found myself chatting to an English girl who was working there for the summer.

As I helped her set out plastic chairs in the bright and airy training room, we talked, and struck up one of those immediate connections, fuelled by deep conversation, as you do when you’re young, ten hours’ flight away from home and discover you have a mutual friend back in Woking of all places.

Suddenly we were talking about purpose and work and all the other unknowns of life. I had just spent three years working for a French bank and now here I was, helping linguists, Bible translators in remote Mexican villages for a few months. These seemed rather incompatible career paths and I wasn’t sure what I would do when I returned home. As I described my bitty scattered career path, I frowned.

‘I mean, maybe my whole working life ahead will just be a hotchpotch!’

‘And that’s ok,’ she said, nodding sagely.

I stopped. Statue-like. Astounded. Stared at her. Had I heard correctly? No one had ever said this to me before. Could she be right? Could this possibly be true?

There was a meaning-filled earnestness about her that I couldn’t ignore. Her response was so poised, spoken so reassuringly I almost believed her. Longed to believe her. I opened my mouth to disagree, but found myself realising how much I wanted her to be right. 

‘Yes.’ I said, hugely relieved, despite the conflict with years of sensible careers advice.

‘Yes, it is.’

That is ok.

Of course, it’s not ‘ok’ to flit, to do nothing and expect a free ride through life. But it is ok to be open to change, to know there is more to you than This One Thing. To know you might have more than one kind of work in your life.

Because, who said we have to follow one set career path for the rest of our lives anyway? To be successful in society’s eyes, to make more money than we need? (Never had that problem personally!). Of course, we need to work in some way, shape or form, but why is this less valuable when it’s unpaid, caring for example, or has a less flashy job title? Work of some description is part of the makeup of life, but it doesn’t always fit into a box.

With this girl’s words came an acceptance that I might not always have it all together career-wise.

And that’s ok.

That I might not always be patted on the back and admired for my work.

And that’s ok.

That there would be highs and lows and meandering paths that wouldn’t always make sense at the time, but that would later lead me exactly where I needed to be.

And that is more than ok.

It was not saying I would never do anything significant or useful. Not saying my time would be frittered away or wasted. Simply that it might be different, unexpected at times.

The message I heard so often growing up was that there is one perfect purpose for us. But this can be crippling. Yes, some people do have a burning desire that exactly matches their gifts and opportunities and, if they are encouraged and work with single-mindedness, then that will be their thing, perhaps even for life.

This is a wonderful thing when it happens.

However, for many of us, the desire is less clear.

Or it is clear but we are told it is impossible and perhaps we don’t have the confidence to overcome that. Perhaps we need to find another way forward using the gifts we have.

This girl’s words, however, had unlocked something within me, freed me. It didn’t have to be so rigid. I didn’t have to have the five-year plan so tightly locked in. Throughout my life, there would be different ways of using my gifts, different ways of working.

And that’s ok.