For Heaven and the Future's Sakes

Earlier today I was directed at this post on the nature of vocation and art. And commercialism and art, which I wrote about before, a bit.

In my religious toolbox, there is this word, 'shai'. As it was first taught to me, shai means fate -- but not fate in the sense of predestination, fate as a calling, a vocation: that which one will accomplish unless rendered incapable. Another way of expressing it, to rummage in another bit of my religious toolbox, is the phrase, "What is the work of this God?"

I have spent so much of my life looking for the foundations I needed to chase my vocations. Feeling the lack of things, the absent portions, not having it arranged where I wanted. And feeling an underlying fear that if I got what I thought I needed, I would be so hooked on the seeking the parts that I would never be satisfied, never be able to move on and take the next step, would be always looking for new criteria to meet, new standards to set, new avenues to perfection.

But I am where I need to be. I am where, if one believes in fate, in shai, in whatever you want to call it, I am supposed to be. I have the tools laid out before me to do the work of this God, the circumstances for it, the conditions are right.

Even if I have lost the writers' discussion group that I once loved, I am still capable of writing, spinning stories and theories and shapes of worlds. The child I have wanted for years is kicking me in the poor abused ribs, and has been all day; that deep draw towards motherhood is satisfied, without ache, replaced with a bit of backache and a tendency to sleep in more than I would otherwise do. I have two wedding rings to wear, at least if the pregnancy-induced swelling of my fingers would go down enough to fit them over my knuckles safely; I have security in the love and devotion of my husbands and my place in their lives. I have space to pursue my dreams and be a part of the foundation of all of these.

The prelude is done; the work of this God is now.