Searching for significance

Thanksgiving has come and gone once again.  Once again, I ate way more than I should have, spent too much money on Black Friday, and didn't do anything semi-productive.  My list of blessings this year is a mile long (as it is every year), but I don't feel thankful.  Most days, I don't feel anything.

I've got a beautiful home with more clothes and food than anyone needs, a good job, a precious daughter, a hard-working husband, and amazing friends.  On paper, I've got everything I need and want.  Yet, I'm numb.  And I'm in counseling.

It's hard to explain, really.  I can't exactly tell you why I resent the fact that people think my life is happy all the time.  Sometimes it is.   Sometimes there are real moments of inexpressible joy.  But those moments are fleeting.  I'm not angry.  I'm not depressed.  And I definitely don't want you to feel sorry for me.  I just want to feel alive.  In the depths of my soul, I want to feel beautiful...and significant.

I get tired of the old Christian cliches, particularly, "Find your satisfaction in Christ."  I know people mean well when they say that, but I'm sorry- I have no idea what it means.  I have a hard time wrapping my mind around ideas that aren't tangible.  Show me, practically, how to "find my satisfaction in Christ," and I'd love to listen.  Otherwise, it seems like that's an easy, automatic answer to an issue with deep and twisted roots.

Life is short.  I've been especially reminded of that in the last couple of weeks as my childhood friend was diagnosed with cancer.  He's 26, and the cancer has spread to his brain.  In my mind, cancer isn't supposed to happen to people my age.  But it can, and it does.  Cancer is no respecter of strength or youth.  Neither are car wrecks, plane crashes, or freak accidents.  Life could end or be drastically altered at any moment, regardless of whether you are 24 or 104.

My counselor tells me to hold onto the things that seem the most real, the experiences and people that make me feel alive, while at the same time recognizing that some of the most real things require a leap of faith to believe.  In light of the fact that life is short, I want to find those things and then to hold fast to them, refusing to let go.  I'm convinced that there is more to life than what I'm experiencing.  I've seen glimpses of it.

One of the greatest gifts God gives us is the ability to start over.  I can't change my circumstances (and in most instances, I don't want to).  But tomorrow I can wake up and "reset."  I can choose to laugh louder, love more, and hold more tightly to the people who are important to me.  I can choose those things even when I'd rather not.  Then maybe, just maybe, those choices will make me feel again.

Oh, and counseling is helpful for everyone.  More on that another day.