Stories from a life in progress.

Free agent

I've misplaced myself today. I'm not sitting in my familiar room, at my own desk. I find myself quite a distance away, at someone else's table, in someone else's house.

It is an intentional misplacement. Someone in my circle of family and friends has struck a spot of bother; someone has gone to the hospital for a few days, and until they come home their household is an adult short. There are school buses to be caught and music lessons to be attended, chores to do and bedtimes to be wrangled, and I volunteered to help cover the gaps. I don't always feel much like a grown-up, but I pass inspection well enough for the present purpose.

My lack of a regular-hours job is what enables me to help people I love today, and it reminds me why I want to build a job that's not dependent on someone else's idea of regular hours. It's freedom I want, but there are several kinds of freedom. I am free from living at a boss's beck and call, free from the need to punch a time clock or hit my desk at given hours. But more important than freedom from is freedom to: I am free to help when someone needs it, free to hop in my car and transplant myself for a few days on very short notice, free to run a temporary taxi and house-sitting service while still chasing some of my own work.

I could use my freedom from just to be lazy.  Some days I give in to that impulse.  But it feels a lot better when I look at my freedom as freedom to.  I'm free to do good work.  Free to help folks.  Free to serve.  This is the freedom I really want.