As your will is lost in God's will you still have purposes, but these purposes are God's desires within you and have nothing to do with you.
JEANNE GUYON
I SCROLL THROUGH my e-mail and search for the most recent www.iluminar.me post. Did I miss it? The last one in my e-mail folder is one I read, when? Over a week ago?
"What's up, Lightseeker? So I said I was done with you. You didn't let that hurt your feelings, did you?"
I click on my Internet server and type in the URL www.iluminar.me and check the blog site to see if anything new has been posted. Nothing. I click back to my e-mail folder and do a search for the e-mail exchange I had with Lightseeker last week. "Maybe you've run off to discover your life's purpose. Good luck with that." Sarcasm reverberates between my office walls.
I open a new message and type:
Lightseeker,
Dropping off the face of the earth doesn't bode well for your blog. Your readers will lose interest if you don't post consistently. From one blogger to another, take my advice and get back in the saddle before you lose your audience.
BTW, sorry I didn't respond to your last e-mail. Life gets busy, right? In answer to your question, my purpose is, of course, to secure financial freedom for myself and those I advise.
A. Bell
After my little foray into introspection during Gerard's memorial service, I came to a couple of conclusions:
First, it's time to invest in my relationship with Jason. It's a sound investment. Sure, I have feelings for him, but a choice like this must be based on something more stable than mere emotion. Jason is intelligent, dependable, trustworthy, and well connected. He's also a looker. I smile. I'm attracted to him in all the right ways. Having a partner is practical. And someday, my biological clock might begin ticking. Although, I think mine is defunct. But should that change, Jason and I would produce stunning offspring.
Second, Gerard's death led me to reconsider my spirituality—or lack thereof. While financial security is important, it isn't an ironclad guarantee against things like death. Even Brigitte couldn't control that. As I observed Brigitte, I realized one needs to insure the things one cannot control—like life. And I'm not talking about a whole-life or term policy. I'm talking eternal insurance. So, I will investigate religion again, and will begin by paying closer attention to Lightseeker's blog.
Again, a practical decision.
Which is why it's annoying that she's provided nothing new to read. I click the mouse and scroll through the blog again.
Whatever.
I'll wait for her to respond to my e-mail.
I look at the time on the upper right corner of my computer screen. Four hours since Brigitte's e-mails and phone calls. I've let her stew long enough. I will not be at her beck and call. I pick up the phone and punch in her number. I listen to her voicemail message and wait for the tone.
"Brigitte, it's Andee Bell. I'm available tomorrow after 3:00 p.m. or after 11:00 a.m. the following day. Let me know which time you prefer. You may call or e-mail me, as usual. See you soon."
Just as I hang up, my doorbell rings. The only one who rings unannounced is the building doorman, everyone else has to buzz me from the lobby. I cross the living room to the front door and open it.
"Delivery, Ms. Bell. It's heavy, may I set it somewhere for you?"
"Who's it from?"
He looks at the mailing label. "Azul Winery."
"Okay, take it to the kitchen, if you don't mind."
He heads for the kitchen, and leaves the box on the island.
"Thanks, Jack."
"No problem, Ms. Bell. I'll see myself out."
I look at the box, reach in a drawer for a knife, and slice it open. Inside, are two cases of Azul's finest. Great. Just what I need. There's also an envelope. I tear open the envelope, which reveals a thank-you card. Inside, Bill has scrawled these words:
Andee,
I appreciate your expertise and your efforts on behalf of Azul. Thank you for the meeting in Napa. I'll look forward to hearing from you.
Bill
I consider the note and how it could be interpreted, and then I tear it up. No need for anyone to come across it and link me with Bill or Azul. The wine? I stash the cases in the back of the pantry until I can figure out what to do with it.
Note to self: Don't let Jason snoop around in the pantry. It's Bill's place to reveal he's sought my advice.
I head back to my desk, where I'll work for the next hour on the information I'll present to Brigitte when we meet. She has an agenda and I assume it will include more questions regarding Azul. This time, I'll give her what she wants. That is, of course, after she's agreed to my stipulation.
Before I dive into the Azul details, I check my e-mail again. There's a response from Brigitte, we'll meet at 3:30 tomorrow afternoon. And there's a response from Lightseeker. "Ah, there you are." I open the message.
Andee,
Again, thank you for your interest in my blog and your concern. It's nice to know you missed my posts. I had a personal crisis last week that prevented my blogging, but I anticipate posting another entry soon.
Thank you, too, for your response to my question. May I ask another? How did you determine your purpose?
"Hey, I didn't say I missed your blog, I just said you're going to lose readers." I scan her e-mail again and then reread her question. So, what? Now we're pen pals? Okay, I'm game. I hit reply:
Lightseeker,
I'm sorry for your crisis, but perhaps it will lend itself to some . . .
The word juicy comes to mind, but even I know it's a bit insensitive if she's had a real crisis.
. . . profound blog entries.
I stop and think about her question. How did I determine my purpose? Uh, I grew up in utter humiliation and vowed I'd never live that way again? Duh.
Regarding purpose: My life circumstances clarified my purpose. My advice is to look at your circumstances and determine what about your situation you want to keep, and what you'd like to change. Perhaps your purpose will reveal itself in the process.
My turn: Why are you so passionate about religion?
A. Bell
This chick isn't very self-aware. Anyone who reads her blog knows her purpose is wound up in her beliefs or her religion or whatever. But she can't see it? What's with that? I may think her purpose is hokey, but to each his own.
Then I reconsider. Okay, maybe it's not hokey. It's just . . .
Whatever.
I have work to do. I close my mail folder and turn my attention back to Azul . . . and Brigitte.