FINDING PURPOSE IN YOUR CURRENT SEASON

 Discovering Meaning in Your Present Phase (Even When It Seems Lacking)

 I once thought that purpose was something you pursued. You’re familiar with that sensation—an unsettling worry that if you’re not pursuing something significant, you’re inevitably lagging behind. It’s visible in all places: the Instagram updates on "living your best life," the job tips advising you to never compromise, the acquaintance who recently launched a nonprofit while you’re figuring out how to fold a fitted sheet. It’s tiring. To be truthful? It gives us the impression that the current season we are experiencing is merely a waiting area for the actual performance to begin.

However, the truth is that purpose isn't found in some future version of yourself who has everything sorted. It’s right here, in this chaotic, everyday, occasionally dull, occasionally painful chapter you’re truly experiencing. Discovering it doesn't necessitate a theatrical departure or a complete life transformation, but rather to engage differently with the life you already lead.I’ll begin with the phase that impacted me the most: the early days of parenting. I recall being immersed in toddler days, smeared with something gooey, functioning on four hours of disrupted sleep, and experiencing a profound, empty discomfort. What was I up to in my life? Before having kids, I had deadlines, advancements, and concrete achievements. My biggest accomplishment was getting a little person to consume something green. I sensed a lack of visibility. I sensed I was fading into diaper changes and nighttime struggles.

Yet amidst the haze, I experienced a slight change. I was swaying my daughter at 2 a.m.—she was feverish and uneasy. I felt drained, frustrated, and very eager for this stage to end. Then she sighed while sleeping, wrapped her small fingers around my thumb, and remained motionless. 
In the silence, I recognized that this is the job. Not the flashy, resume-building kind. The kind that does not receive applause. But the sort that shapes an individual's overall sense of safety in the world. My goal for that season was not to start a company or run a marathon. It was to be present, patient, and tender when my body wanted to be sharp and exhausted. That does not sound heroic. But it mattered. It was important to one small person, and that was sufficient.

Perhaps your season is different. Perhaps you are in a waiting period—waiting for a job offer, test results, someone to pick you, or for the sadness to subside. These seasons are harsh because they feel like a stop in your life. Everyone else appears to be moving forward, but you remain stuck in the muck.

I have been there, too. I was in between jobs a few years back, sending out applications that seemed to go nowhere. Each rejection hurt a bit more than the last.   I began to feel as if I was wasting time and that my worth was decreasing with each passing week. However, in retrospect, that waiting period was not without purpose. It was filled with modest, unexpected presents. I had time to cook again. I reconnected with an old friend on a lengthy afternoon walk. I read books just because I wanted to, not because they were beneficial. I learnt how to be alone without the distractions of constant productivity.

Then there are the times that simply seem… dull. The habitual seasons. The days when each Tuesday resembles the previous Tuesday, and you question if this is everything. The journey to work. The trip to the grocery store. The never-ending laundry. The identical minor disputes with the same person you care for. These seasons pose a risk as they can be easily navigated on autopilot. You convince yourself that you'll truly start living once something shifts—when you relocate, when you receive the promotion, when the children grow up.

Yet, the reality I'm still grappling with is that the dull seasons are when much of life truly unfolds. If you don't discover purpose in that place, you won't find it in any other. As there is no enduring mountaintop. You ascend one hill, and there's merely another valley. The enchantment lies not in the endpoint. It's in the way you walk.So what is the actual process for doing this? How do you discover meaning on an ordinary Wednesday when you're fatigued and lacking motivation?

You begin with small steps. Incredibly tiny. You conclude that loading the dishwasher isn't a task; it's a gesture of kindness towards your future self or your loved ones. You conclude that hearing your coworker express frustration for the tenth time isn't pointless; it's a little act of patience you extend to another person. You conclude that the five minutes spent watering your forlorn plant on the windowsill is a practice in caring for something alive. These aren't lofty, artistic aims. They are small, everyday acts of defiance against the falsehood that significance is found only in grand gestures.

I am thinking about my granny right now. She spent the majority of her adult life in the same tiny town, in the same modest house, doing the same simple things: preparing dinner, managing her garden, sending letters to her sisters, and attending church potlucks with her famous banana pudding. By world measures, her purpose was insignificant. But I recall her as the most grounded and joyous person I know. She was not waiting for her actual life to begin. She was experiencing it right there, in the usual rhythms. And she taught me, without saying anything,  that a life filled with little, devoted gestures had immense purpose.