"Grandma, I need help wiping."
This came from my three-year-old grandson Isaac, who, along with his six-year-old brother Brigham was visiting us last week.
I hurried into the bathroom to take care of the "paperwork," then helped Isaac wash his hands. In between that and cleaning out the cat litter, I did two loads of laundry, wrote several cards, swept the kitchen floor for the third time that day, and decided I was severely underpaid.
A New York Times bestselling book bears the title "The Purpose Drive Life." Lately, I've been ponderinig upon my purpose in life. Do I even have one?
For more than thirty years, I was a full time mother. With all of our five children on their own now, I am out of a job, much like the employee who worked for the same firm for three decades and then finds himself laid off.
Who am I if I am not a full time mother? I'm still a mom. I still worry about my children and grandchildren, but my duties have shifted considerably. Can I make a difference in my small portion of the world? I'm still trying to figure that out.
Having a purpose is important. Without it, we feel that we are taking up space at best. At worst, we are a burden to others.
Hours later that same day, I find myself and Isaac snugged up in a chair reading book after book. He lays his head on my shoulder, I draw him closer in to me, and we take trips via our imagination. For that moment, I have a purpose. My doubts fled.
Of course I have a purpose. I am still a nurturer, still able to make a difference, if only I care to look, if only I care to care.
So, for today, I am grateful for acts, both large and small, that give purpose to my life.