All That I Have Written Is Straw. . .

Meanderings of a Catholic Devout

Defining purpose

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I have been reflecting quite a lot on purpose in my life. To every thing, there is a purpose, right? I’ve been going through this stage of sorting out what’s really important in my life and what’s not and battling emotions associated with so much that’s still void in my life.My job is fulfilling enough as it is, I suppose, and I am achieving inner fulfilment through my studies at school or church. My boyfriend and I have a cozy life, I suppose, and we’re getting on with our lives quite beautifully but I can’t help but feel I still miss something incredibly important in my life: children.

It seems as if everywhere I venture, my friends and family are having children or raising them. My boyfriend has his own child, from his prior marriage, and until his annulment is approve, getting married and having children isn’t a sanctioned option. Although his son is so very sweet to me, I’m very much reminded of where I stand in his life by all the little things in his mannerisms or, naturally, by the ex-wife.

Recently visiting my sister (who is pregnant with her second child) opened my eyes a little more to what I’m missing. Of course, it’s exhausting raising kids, but even when my sister was away for a brief one-day getaway from her child, I could tell where her mind was. . .where her heart was. Is it okay to be envious of that concern?

I once asked my morality professor about the role of honoring one’s own parents when they are deceased. He mentioned that the best way to honor your parents is through the respect you pay mind to when rearing your own kids, and for those of us who do not have kids, through the involvement and respect of others’ kids. Somehow, this just doesn’t seem to satiate my desire to fulfill my biological purpose in life: motherhood.

I thought recently about my own ex-husband, who now has a daughter of his own. It jolted a memory I had of how difficult it was for he and I to bring up the subject of having children. He didn’t want them, until his own sister had a child and then there was a small window when he was open to it, but perhaps I hesitated. Then I am reminded, sadly, of his rejection of the part of my soul that made up half the marriage. Two years after our divorce, he has his own child and I have none. As happy as I am for the life that resulted out of the tragedy of a divorce and for his own happiness for his daughter, I still feel like this cold hard fact is a sobering slap in the face for me.

Perhaps what springs this on is all the recent news coverage of infanticide and gendercide and abortions, combined with the passing Mother’s Day and Father’s Day holidays. Motherhood once seemed so frightening and unnecessary to me but now my heart longs for it. One can argue logically all they want, but something of a much higher nature beckons us to purpose.

Mother Mary, please pray for us.

Written by Written Straw

June 16, 2012 at 5:26 pm

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