“he will come to us like the winter rains, like the spring rains that water the earth" (Hosea 6:3b).

As I dressed for work, I pondered the question that had troubled me for months. Exactly what is my destiny? Now that my children were older, my career as an Executive Soccer Mom was slated for retirement.  It was time for new endeavors.

     One more coat of mascara should do the trick, I told myself, making sure not to look at the scripture taped on the mirror: “For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future”  (Jer 29:11).  Even though I knew the verse by heart, I wasn’t convinced about God’s plan to give me a hope and a future. 

     God, I wish you would clue me in on Your plans for me! Careful not to let a tear escape and ruin Maybelline’s artwork, I screwed the mascara wand into place and headed out the door to work. My turmoil was concealed—at least on the outside. 

     I had been struggling with destiny issues ever since my son Jake died in a tragic automobile accident several years earlier. Until then, I thought I knew my purpose. It was uncomplicated. I was solely and contentedly a mother. When Jake died, however, my life was altered forever: Suddenly, I felt compelled to write.

     I had never written much of anything before, but now writing seemed mandatory, an expression I couldn’t stop. I had to write. I had to heal. I never thought that writing would be something I would choose for a living. What was crafted on paper was too transparent to expose. Besides, all my life, my friends commented on my creativity.   

     “You should open a shop, Christy.”

     “You should be a decorator!”

     “You are so creative, Christy.” 

     The accolades from friends never ceased, but like a screwdriver trying to rotate a stripped screw, they never quite gripped me. To me, the real beauty in anything I created was below the surface. Without the ability to articulate the inspiration for my design, my efforts felt unrewarded. Since my degree was in Finance, education and experience trumped artistry and I was drawn back to my comfort zone—banking.

     “Good morning, Christy,” announced Marta as I rushed into the office. “Just look at you today. Where do you come up with these ideas for your outfits? You are so creative!”

     There is was again.

     “Thanks, Marta.” 

     I stared at the beige burlap walls surrounding the confines of my cubical. I did my best to decorate my cube, but with wall-to-ceiling panels of never-ending jute, even Martha Stewart would have upholstery overload. This was one time, however, I was grateful to be barricaded by burlap.  

     My nose stung as I fought back the hot tears. I really don’t belong here.

     Although Marta’s comment was intended to flatter me, instead, I felt provoked—provoked to face the reality that I was in the wrong place.  But there was no time to brood. My screen flickered indicating I had a caller on the line. I repressed my regrets and shifted into business mode. “HUD’s National Servicing Center,” I answered as if my voice was on autopilot. 

     By the end of the day, I felt emotionally exhausted. I wanted to run home to my favorite recovery group—Law and Order Alamode, but one of my friends was doing a presentation at a writers group I recently joined, and I didn’t want to miss it. Little did I know, her topic was on creativity.

     Jenny presented research that explored creativity levels at various stages of life. “We are all born with a measure of creativity, but studies show by the age of seven, the use of creativity drops to an average of ten percent.”

     Hmmm…Sounds like my destiny.

     When the meeting was over at nine o’clock, I was long overdue for some TV and dairy therapy. I said my good-byes and headed out the door. Black clouds dumped huge buckets of rain from the previously clear skies. By the time I got to my car, I felt like I had just gotten off the Acapulco Cliff Dive at White Water.

     I don’t want to drive in this rain! I groaned as my soaked body plopped into the driver’s seat. I turned on the ignition and the radio to listen to the weather forecast.

     “100 percent chance of rain today,” the announcer began.

     Duh. I thought as pellets of rain pounded against my windshield.

     “Thunderstorm warning effective until 10:00 pm this evening. Chance of precipitation for tomorrow drops to ten percent.”

     The last words of the weatherman seemed to echo with each swish of the wiper blades. Ten-percent. Ten-percent.

     As I strained to see through the blinding rain, I couldn’t help but wonder. Was my destiny like tomorrow’s weather forecast? God intended a downpour, but had I settled for a small percentage of what He planned for my life?

     Waiting at the light for my turn to proceed, I listened to the rain beat against the pavement. I realized how much my purpose was like the rain—created in heaven and destined to be released. Suddenly, the storm didn’t seem so bad. Although my purpose to write had been restrained, now I knew—it’s time for a downpour. 

     I reconciled with my destiny that day. Creativity that had been bound up for years has since been released. With writing, I’ve found the fulfillment to articulate the inspiration for my designs. And even though my projects are not crafted with fabric or thread, I am designing again—designing with words.

Prayer: Lord, I am so thankful that You created me for a marvelous purpose. When life gets in the way of my ability to discern your direction, help me to rest and wait for clarity. I never want to get ahead of You. I always want You to go before me. Amen.

Scriptures to Ponder:

• In him we were also chosen, having been predestined according to the plan of him who works out everything in conformity with the purpose of his will (Ephesians 1:11).
• The Lord will fulfill his purpose for me; your love, O Lord, endures forever— do not abandon the works of your hands (Psalm 138:8).
• Many are the plans in a man's heart, but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails (Proverbs 19:21).
• Unless the Lord builds the house, its builders labor in vain (Psalm 127:1).

Questions to Ponder:

1. Read Proverbs 19:21 above. How do you discern the difference between the plans of your heart and the Lord’s purpose?
2. What do you think God has created you to do or be? If you haven’t considered this before, what talents or special abilities has God given you?
3. Have you gone through seasons of life where you feel your purpose has shifted? If so, explain.
4. Read Psalm 138:8 above. Have you ever felt like the psalmist? Do you have talents that are lying dormant that you wish the Lord would revive? If so, what are they?