Today’s guest post comes from Karen D. Austin, who lives in Wichita, Kansas with her husband Michael and their two children. After three decades working with younger adults, she’s pursuing a degree in gerontology so that she better understand the growth and development of older adults. As a recovering Type A personality, she must use any available free time to practice yoga, write haiku and read devotional literature in an effort to dial down to socially acceptable levels. Currently, she spend about 3 minutes a day on each of these grounding tasks, but she has a chart and some goals to help her more efficiently transform into a Type B.
In the spring of 1988, I was living in Washington, DC and enjoying the many opportunities afforded by the city and its inhabitants. I was working as a technical writer, doing volunteer work, attending cultural events, and forging friendships with a variety of interesting people. Unfortunately, I gave myself over to the zeitgeist of the city at the heights of the Yuppie movement of the 1980s, and I began to unravel from the stress. During the four years that I lived in the DC area, I had changed jobs four times, doubling my salary in the process. I was driving a Saab Turbo and feeling pretty proud of my accomplishments.
One evening, I was working late for my employer, a software company in Rockville, Maryland. The view out my office window showed a line of trees, contrasting against the darkness of night. As is typical of the area, a storm broke out as the dew point fell with nightfall. Lightening illuminated the sky, showing more clearly the trees against the horizon. I was crying for reasons that weren’t entirely clear to me. I just knew that all my busyness wasn’t meeting all of my needs.
As I softly wept, I turned to glance at the several family photos, framed and sitting on my desk. Over the heart of each family member, was a red open wound. I don’t remember ever having an image so strongly come to my mind, so much so that I felt as though these wounds were really present in the photographs. Accompanying this image was a strong impression that each person on this earth suffers wounds, and that I was to pay more attention to how I could comfort people and help them heal from these wounds. I was distracting myself in seeking promotions and pay increases in a field that really didn’t match my skill set as a gregarious, nurturing person. I felt a calm, despite the storm outside. I knew that I would submit my resignation within a week.
It’s been a couple of decades since that moment alone in my office. I wish I could say that I set down my net and never returned again to the aim of gaining approval by the world’s standards. I still find myself struggling to accept the call to nurture and to heal. I do not feel as though I am particularly apt entering the holy space of a person’s tender emotions. However, I do feel that if I give myself over to this work, I will be assisted by angels. Or more accurately, I will assist them with my mortal hands. And in the process, my wounds will heal.
Have there been times when you have felt the Lord directing you to certain paths? What difficulties have you faced in finding and following the Lord’s guidance in your life?
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