About mid-way through the day, I realized it was April 4th; forty years ago, just after midnight, I got on a chartered flight to Cam Ranh Bay, Vietnam. About this time of day, MLK, Jr. was murdered in Memphis: not directly related events, of course.
Both events had begun earlier, and had, in my case, been largely decided by 28 Sep 66, the date I joined (yes, you heard that right) the U S Army. Before then, my life seemed as if it might have a point: if not immediately, then at least it might develop one. For the past forty years, it has not seemed so, though I have continued to look, and to try to make one.
You see, I am convinced, despite these decades of evidence, that my life has a purpose, which is not summed up in social or interpersonal roles, nor even in occupation or profession. This week, I answered two important questions "Yes, I do"
Do you believe that Godde loves you?
Do you believe She has a purpose for you that She wants you to fulfill?
Perhaps the questions arose from this week, though I didn't share the significance of the date with my interrogators. (One of them already knew, of course). Therefore, I am trying something different and very difficult for me, though I have been enticed by my previous experiences with it: silence. I'm not sure yet, but this may include less internet participation.
Let she who has words of wisdom speak.
Speak, Lady, for your servant is listening.