When I was young, my family and I were blessed to know many native Australian aborigines, including a few elders. We went to church with several and were honoured to call them family friends. My father, on the rare occasion, had lively debates with one in particular; who we all dearly loved as he was such a very kind and virtuous man. One elder one day, clearly noticing my discomfort in myself and my awkwardness in behaviour, made deliberate effort to speak to me. When this 'Auntie' (as they often are called) spoke to me she pointedly held my attention by getting right into my face so that her nose near touched mine.
"You have great purpose here," she said. "You are chosen. You can't stop until it is all done."
What she said to me, I carry with me and remind myself of it every so often... actually, more so, it is reminded TO me in unusual ways. More than one of my children have had such experiences too; one so intensely that the elder - in an open park near a library in Cairns, Australia - near tears, asked if he could hug my daughter who he felt was blessed.
There have been times when I actually tried to physically harm to myself as I felt so lost amongst the noise of others, but I am still here. Once, in the dark, I felt around for a knife in a kitchen drawer, and as God (or whoever you deem equal) is my witness, I could not find one (I kept picking up spoons)... yet in the morning, when my emotions had abated somewhat, the drawer had plenty of knives in it. Had my hand been stayed? Or had I stayed my hand? Psychological verses spiritual.
Once, at a point, when I was down yet not suicidal, I stepped outside. I felt at one of the lowest points in my life, but something in me kept me trudging along. As I walked up my steep drive to meet with a bus that would be dropping my daughter (close to five years old) off, a bird - a wild turtle dove - landed on my back. Just then the bus pulled up. In shock, near horror, I had dropped to my knees as the turtle dove stood on my back with its' wing outstretched. I could hardly move in fear as my knees that were scratched terribly on the cement drive, bled. My daughter stepped off the bus at that point and giggled as the bird, finally, flew away.
"Mummy," she said, "You looked like an angel with wings."
I thought about it later, having calmed down. What had been a shocking experience for myself, had been seen by my young daughter as a beautiful one. Yet, it was the same experience... just seen from a different angle and felt FROM a different mindset. I had been brought to my knees... by a bird... and raised in thinking by a five year old. It reminded me, evermore, of the words that 'Auntie' had said.
Each experience is unique... precious... perfect. Maybe 'Auntie' had seen that I needed that reminder; a reminder that could be told to me in such a way that I would remember for all my life. Maybe her words given to me, implanted into me - psychologically - the words that would save me from myself at certain points in my life and give me the power to feel emboldened at other points to succeed or keep going UNTIL I succeeded. Yet, in truth, I believed her... and still believe her.
Perhaps that is all we need. Someone to say the words and for us to believe them. To tell us that we have purpose and each of us is unique... and for those words to be absolutely believed by the one hearing them. To remind us of our worth. That there is within each of us, a being so bold and fixedly strong, flexible and unlimited that it could move mountains if it wanted to.
I challenge each who read this, to try and build up someone else in the same way that this wonderful woman did for me. Remind another of their worth and they have purpose. Tell them, that they are unique and that you, absolutely, believe that they have something great to do in this life. Believe it yourself and then stand back and watch the wonders that they will do. Build others, for they ARE unique and have purpose, just as you do.