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Is there such a thing as knowing that this is it?

No, I don't mean as in dying or the end of something. I mean it as: can we ever know that "this is where [I] am meant to be, that there will be no more indecision or wandering?"

This meditation is purely my own. I mention no one else because these are MY musings that I want to put down, to share with thoughtful friends (and family.)

I have been thinking about returning to the US after this year in Ireland. Influenced of course by the marital relationship, but I don't disagree with the idea of a return. Arthritis, difficulty with setting up new healthcare, damp weather, new challenges ahead with getting an Irish driver's license in January, settling on a place to live, potentially giving up my US residency--this is all painful, scary stuff. And of course I miss my family. Facebook is wonderful and maybe it could be enough but, added to the other reasons for returning, well, it seems to make sense.

And yet it will be so hard for me to leave. I love this village, this way of life. Walking the dog in woods and along the beach, a five-minute walk to the library, the local store. I like the restaurants here. I have begun to enjoy driving! And of course there is the cemetery project. I have had several emails from people in the US who have "found" relatives graves through our genealogical work. And there is still so much to do on it. We have barely scratched the surface.

I am never bored. I have books to read, files to transcribe, thoughts to think, places to go, people to talk to. And of course there is this:






I love Ireland (well, all of the UK) in the rain, in the wet. But what is life about? When I stand before God sometime in the future, will I be able to say "Yes, this was a life well lived. I did what I needed to do for myself, for others, I am satisfied." Sometimes I think that yes, I could do that even if that time were to be tomorrow. But at other times I think that there is more still to do.

And that is my question--does it matter where I do it? And find peace about that "doing." We have a hymn in our church that speaks to what I am thinking today:

Where can I turn for peace?
Where is my solace
When other sources cease to make me whole?
When with a wounded heart, anger, or malice,
I draw myself apart,
Searching my soul?

Where, when my aching grows,
Where, when I languish,
Where, in my need to know, where can I run?
Where is the quiet hand to calm my anguish?
Who, who can understand?
He, only One.

He answers privately,
Reaches my reaching
In my Gethsemane, Savior and Friend.
Gentle the peace he finds for my beseeching.
Constant he is and kind,
Love without end.

I guess the easy answer is that no matter where I am, He is. So I could hypothetically stay in Ireland, return to the US, or Canada, and I could find peace in Him. But the running, the calming, the "reaches my reaching" sometimes becomes more difficult when we are in a place where that answer is hard to hear....

Sigh, I guess I need to spend more time sitting on a rock.

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