PART 1: How the idea began!
I was asked
to speak before a group of Christian women by a dear wise woman whose genuine
pursuit of God I have admired for years. Her confidence in my words undid me as
I found myself at a loss for what to impart to women wiser, smarter, and more
clear headed than I might currently be.
When she
texted me, she said I could just give one of my lessons I spoke at church from
Ann Voskamp’s 1000 Gifts. But the
funny true story is that if you speak that into your phone it comes out Ann’s
Vodka Camp. I teased her that I was immediately comforted
by the fact that I would be speaking at a place that people might not remember
my name or thoughts. It surely lifted
the burden.
Days later,
I moaned to another friend that I didn't feel I had any expertise to share. Who am I that I should be speaking to others? I ramble thoughts about words and events in
life that make me think “Hmmm” here on this blog domain. It is mine alone and
given with open invitation for everyone to peruse.
Her
response: “But you are an expert at life.” So true. We all are to a degree aren’t we? We all have a degree of life that we can
share. And some of us have a master’s
degree in certain areas.
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| MY PURSE--A METAPHOR FOR MY LIFE? |
Days later,
while driving the long flat three hour stretch of highway to St. Louis,
mentally and spiritually preparing to lead an intervention for a woman I care
deeply about entangled within the snares and cares of life, I plunged one hand in my tightly packed purse for a pen to record an idea. (I have to record them quickly these days.
They fly away as quickly as they appear.)
One hand rummaged
and one hand held the wheel, one-eye watched the road while one-eye glimpsed the
purse, one tasking the other. This confirmed why I hate purses. Because I was mentally frustrated by the empty search for a pen that I had purposely placed in my
purse’s inside pocket right next to the lipstick, I heartily shook all its contents on the seat
to reveal the pens.
That’s when
the thought occurred to me that this exercise of purging seeming organized
contents that I carry with me every day might be more deeply revealing metaphorically
something about my life.
I thought of
the various types of clutches I have had throughout my
life: purses, bags, fanny packs, backpacks, totes, satchels. I thought of
the purse I was currently clutching every day. I hate purses and for me to
spend money on one was rare, but the one I was using I actually purchased from
Thirty-One because I loved its compartments and could get it monogrammed.
Actually, I
had been working out of two purses switching the necessary contents back and forth
based on which purse I needed for the occasion.
I am somewhat purse bipolar. Some
days, I think I want a little bag, when suddenly the desire for a large dump
purse becomes appealing.
Are our
purses too big, too small, or just right?
Are they full of compartments or just one big container to dump
everything in at random? Are they made
of weave or tough leather? Are they
dainty, frilly, eclectic, sporty, classy?
I thought the baggage I have carried throughout my purse days. Is the baggage neatly organized or over-stuffed. Is it a confused heavy conglomeration wearing ruts in my arms? Is it
full of junk, the necessities, or the just in case stuff. Is it a mystery holding place, making me
wonder just where items went? Does it fit
awkwardly? Does it seem to match my shoes,
my clothes, or even my daily events.
This purse I
carry: it is truly a metaphor for the
life that I live.
The questions began unraveling in my head: what clutter
do I carry each day in my life, in my pursuit of God? Why do I continue to clutch certain items in my purse and likewise in my life? What could I stop carrying around in my life? What are the bare necessities? And what is this purse=uing of God supposed to really look like when I already commit to live with God every day?
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