++>> Recently, I wrote to a friend and told him how overwhelmed I'm feeling. It's interferred with my writing to the point that I quit writing my humor column at The Cheers. So, this post is going to be about me and my response to portions of his letter.

There are some really annoying parts of my personality that I've grown sick of over my 20 years of adulthood. I have a tendency to get an idea and go gung ho with it for a period of time. Then, as the novelty wears off and the activities related to it become a grind, I find it hard to keep up. Also, my life is hectic off and on as various issues come up with being a father and a husband and an employee. Then, of course, my daughter's disability provides plenty of other things I do or could be doing to try to help her overcome some of her limitations.

So, right now I am in the phase where I have just gotten overwhelmed and I'm in a frump.

And I'm feeling worthless. And I wonder why I can't have success. And I wonder why I care that I can't have success. And I spend a lot of time not caring about much of anything.

And I get selfish and act like everyone ought to look out for me.

And I keep wondering where is God's direction for my life.

I've read things that people have written (The Four Spiritual Laws) that say God has a wonderful plan for my life. And they make it sound like there is a plan that is more than just getting saved. Like there is meaning and purpose and I'll feel fulfilled and know exactly what I am supposed to be doing.

Boy. I've never felt that feeling very much.

Actually, I felt it when we first found out about my daugter's cerebral palsy. We adopted her without it being evident that she had CP (that probably sounds odd, but CP, even a version that is pretty severe, does not necessarily become apparent even by 6 months), and we found out at 9 months that she had CP.

At that point I felt a real presence of God's purpose in my life and figured that God was placing a burden in my life that would define a major portion of my role in life.

The problem is that the feeling lasted for about six months. Then, I still had the burden, but the sense of purpose was gone. I found out that I had no particular interest in the sub-culture of the world of people who are disabled.

I'll try to explain that more precisely. We have a friend whose son is disabled in a way similar to our daughter. This lady, who I don't believe is a Christian, seems to revel in doing things related to her son's disability. She seems to have a real purpose in life and approaches the things she has to do for her son with a bigger picture in mind. For example, there is a type of therapy that is available in California but not here. She is taking her son there this summer for the therapy and indicated to us recently that maybe she could use this experience as a first step to getting that type of therapy provided in our area. Another example is that she and her husband made major renovations to their house with the idea that some day several people with CP could live there with her son.

In some ways I envy her zeal for doing these things and drawing a sense of purpose from them. But I also have absolutely no desire to pursue those kinds of things.

I've spent a lot of my life around people who have been sick. When I was in third grade, my dad was sick and spent 12 weeks in a hospital (six in a Butte, MT hospital and six in a Denver hospital) overcoming poisoning that affected him when he used a bathroom in which cleaning chemicals had been mixed that should never touch each other.

When I was in high school my mom had bone cancer in her leg which required an amputation. She battled for about two years learning to use an artificial leg. Then, she developed lung cancer and died from that about six months after I started college.

My older son, at a year old, developed a severe form of pneumonia called Legionnaire's disease that almost took his life. He was on oxygen at home for a year after that.

In some people's life, these events make them strong and give them a purpose to help others. Guess what. That "weren't it" with me. I'm just sick of adversity. I have no desire to help those with health needs. I have no desire to emotionally support those who are struggling with health issues.

In other words, it's all about ME.

Maybe I should write about health issues. Therein is a connection between my life and something that I enjoy doing (writing). But health issues bore me stiff, for the most part.

I keep telling myself and if I just could get a clear signal from God about what He wants me to do with my life, I could put aside the things that don't support that purpose and feel a real sense of purpose. And I could forge confidently ahead.

I'm pretty sure, as I think about it now, that I'm just kidding myself.

I want to do what I want to do. I feel like I've been putting off doing things I really like -- probably my favorite thing is acting -- I love to be on stage in front of a mass of people -- but acting takes up huge amounts of time at unusual hours, and I'm not willing to spend my nights performing while my kids grow up without their knowing me or my knowing them.

I want to write. But it easily gets overwhelming.

My wife has said that there will be time after the kids have grown up. My friend has said don't get ahead of God. God has a time in mind for me to pursue my writing.

Maybe.

But what if I finally reach the point where there is time to do these things, and I am physically or mentally unable to do them? Things happen. I've seen it.

Also, I find it hard to reconcile the fact that I have such strong yearnings to do these artistic types of things (by the way, I also like to perform music) and, yet, there seems to be no time to pursue them. Why am I put together this way, if God doesn't have a purpose for them in my life?

ARGH!

Then, there's this other part of me that I alluded to earlier. I've know for a long time that part of me wants to do these artistic things, because they make me feel important. It's really cool to have people oohing and awing over a performance you have done.

But the next day, when no one is around, you feel worthless. It's like a drug (at least, I think it is -- I've never done drugs to be able to develop an addiction). You need to keep being in the spotlight to feel good, but when you're away from it, you don't feel so good.

What a rotten source for self-esteem. I know I should feel good about myself, because I'm forgiven and God considers me valuable. I know that. It all makes sense. I can see the absolute folly of drawing my self-esteem from any other source. But living that way is not the same as knowing about it.

Also, as I've done my recent writing, and I've pondered what it must be like to be rich and famous and adored, I've realized that even if I could achieve that kind of success, it would never be enough. There would always be something missing. And eventually someone would come along to surpass anything I achieved, and then I would be second or third or fourth. And then I wouldn't be important any more.

I feel like a nut writing this. But who cares. This is my blog. This is what a blog is all about. It's about writing anything I want about me.

See, it's still all about ME.

And I had to write those last two paragraphs, because now I'm feeling self-conscience about revealing what goes on inside of me. And somehow I'm hoping to deflect the criticism you are probably thinking.

Awe ... who cares.

So, I don't know what to do.

Probably, God has been whispering at me for twenty years or more that he wants me to work with people who are disabled. And I keep shrinking back. Because I don't want to. It's not my cup of tea. I'll deal with disabilities to the extent that it helps my daughter, but I don't want it to become my mission in life.

Whatever.
  ¶ 8:41 PM