The Gift You May Be Overlooking

There are things we can spend years searching for that have been quietly revealing themselves all along. Purpose can be one of them.

We tend to imagine purpose as something we eventually discover. We pray about it, read about it, wonder whether we're walking in it, and sometimes wait for that unmistakable moment when everything finally makes sense. But I’ve begun to wonder whether we sometimes make purpose harder to recognize because we expect it to arrive looking important.

What if some of the clearest clues are already woven into the ordinary ways we move through life? The things we notice. The problems we instinctively know how to approach. What people continually bring to us. What becomes clearer, calmer, more beautiful, more useful, or more alive after it passes through our hands.

Sometimes the gift is difficult to recognize precisely because it doesn’t feel extraordinary to the person carrying it.

A Dream About a Toolbox

Many years ago, I had a dream that I still think about. I had gone to a place where many people had gathered for some kind of opportunity. When we arrived, everyone was trying to figure out how to get inside. Eventually, a woman appeared and quietly led a few people through a door. There was nothing particularly dramatic about it. If you weren’t paying attention, you could have easily missed her.

However, I noticed her. I followed her inside, and others followed behind me. Once we were there, things started becoming disorganized. There were more people than expected, supplies were scattered around, and people were filling out information on scraps of paper because there wasn’t enough of what they needed.

Then I did something that seemed completely normal to me. I gathered some of the supplies, including forms and baby wipes, put them into a toolbox, and moved everything to a place where people could reach what they needed without crowding around.

Nobody asked me to do this. I just happened to see something that wasn’t working and started trying to make it work better. While I was carrying the toolbox, a man looked at me. I said, “I’m the fix-it woman.” He laughed, and I kept moving. But, that little sentence stayed with me after I woke up.

At the time, I certainly wasn’t thinking, 'Ah yes, this is a profound revelation about my gifting'. I was the fix-it woman. That was it. But the older I’ve gotten, the more interesting that moment has become.

The Things We Don’t Think Count

One reason we can have trouble recognizing our gifts is that we experience them from the inside. If something has always come fairly naturally to you, you may assume it isn’t particularly unusual. You organize things because disorder bothers you. You explain complicated ideas because your mind naturally looks for the simpler thread. You make people feel comfortable because you notice when someone feels left out. You see patterns because apparently your brain has decided that everything in life should connect to three other things before you've finished thinking about the first one. That last one I understand particularly well.

We rarely stand outside ourselves long enough to realize that someone else may not see what we see. And because of that, we can develop a strange assumption that valuable things should be difficult. If it took years to learn, surely it matters. If it required a degree, certification, struggle, sacrifice, or great effort, then we know how to value it. But something you've simply always done? That can become nearly invisible.

Nobody assigned me a role. Nobody announced that I possessed some extraordinary gift for systems or organization. I simply encountered disorder and responded to it. Sometimes our recurring responses tell us something about what we carry.

Purpose May Show Up as a Function Before It Becomes a Title

I think we often approach purpose by asking, "What am I supposed to be?" It's understandable. We live in a world organized around titles, such as Writer, Teacher, Leader, Artist, Entrepreneur, Minister, Executive, or Creator. Titles help us describe things, but they can also make us look for purpose in the wrong place.

A more revealing question might sometimes be, "What do I consistently bring?"

Maybe you bring clarity, create structure where there was confusion, or leave conversations with others feeling more hopeful than when they arrived.

Perhaps you can walk into a room and sense what isn't being said. You might translate complicated ideas into something people can actually use. You may create beauty, recognize possibilities, teach naturally, solve practical problems, or see connections that other people miss.

The title attached to those gifts can change many times over a lifetime. The function may keep showing up. That's why looking backward can be surprisingly useful. You may discover that something you thought began recently has actually followed you through several completely different seasons. Your life may know something about your purpose before you know what to call it.

Pay Attention to the Door You Almost Miss

There was another detail in the dream that became meaningful to me over time. The door wasn't obvious. I had to notice the woman who knew where to enter. That reminds me of how easily we can overlook opportunities because we expect meaningful ones to announce themselves. Sometimes they don't.

A recurring conversation can be a clue. So can the thing people keep asking you to help them with. Other hints could be a subject that won't quite leave you alone, an idea you continue returning to, or a problem that irritates you because you can see how much better it could be.

Not everything that catches our attention is a calling, of course. Sometimes something is just interesting, but patterns deserve attention.

There's a difference between obsessively trying to turn everything into a sign and simply becoming more observant of our own lives. There's less pressure in it. You don't have to know immediately what something means. You can notice first.

A Gift Is Not an Assignment to Rescue Everyone

The toolbox has taken on another meaning for me as I’ve gotten older. When I called myself the fix-it woman in the dream, I wasn't fixing people. I was fixing the environment around them. People needed resources. The way those resources were arranged wasn't working. I created enough structure for them to get what they needed themselves. That's a very different kind of helping.

Caring people can easily cross that line without realizing it. If we're good at recognizing needs, solving problems, encouraging others, or bringing order into difficult situations, we can start assuming that noticing a problem makes us responsible for carrying it. It doesn't.

Sometimes the healthiest expression of a gift is creating conditions in which another person can move forward without becoming dependent upon us.

There's a sentence from the dream that I understand differently now, 'I carried the toolbox. I wasn't the toolbox'. There’s freedom in knowing the difference. Our gifts are something we steward. They don't require us to become endlessly available, indispensable, or responsible for everyone who might benefit from them.

When Naming Your Gift Feels Uncomfortable

Another part of the dream involved identity. While everyone was writing information down, I saw someone write “Tribe of Israel,” and I wanted to write “Tribe of Judah.”

Yet, I hesitated. I wondered whether people would believe me or think I was saying something strange. And then there wasn't enough room on the shared paper anyway, so eventually someone handed me my own legal pad. That hesitation feels very human to me.

Sometimes practicing a gift privately is easier than naming it publicly. You can write for years before feeling comfortable saying, I'm a writer. You can teach without calling yourself a teacher. You can lead while wondering whether you have any right to consider yourself a leader.

You can recognize a spiritual sensitivity in yourself and immediately start wondering what everyone else will think if you say it aloud. There can be a strange tension between humility and honesty. We don't want to inflate ourselves. That's healthy. But shrinking isn't humility either.

There are times when acknowledging what has repeatedly shown itself through our lives is simply telling the truth. And perhaps that's part of stewardship too. You cannot intentionally develop something you insist on pretending isn't there.

Maybe You Need a Clean Page

I still love that legal pad. There was no room left for me to write what I wanted to say on the crowded shared sheet, so I was given my own page. I don't think every detail in every dream needs an elaborate interpretation. We can wear ourselves out doing that. But this particular image has become a useful reflection for me.

Sometimes we spend so much time looking at the categories available to us that we start squeezing ourselves into language that doesn't quite fit. We look at how somebody else teaches and assume teaching must look like that. We look at somebody else's ministry, career, business, art, leadership, or spiritual life and use it as the template for our own.

What if your particular combination of gifts needs more room? Maybe you're analytical and intuitive, creative and structured, or spiritual and practical. Perhaps you're a writer who likes systems, teacher who doesn't particularly want to stand behind a podium, or a leader who creates environments where people learn to trust their own relationship with God rather than becoming dependent upon the leader.

Sometimes what you're carrying doesn't fit neatly on the crowded sheet. That doesn't automatically make it special. But it might mean you need enough room to describe it truthfully. A clean page can be a beautiful thing.

Watch What You Do Without Being Asked

If you've been wondering about your gifts or purpose, I wouldn't rush to answer the question. Instead, become curious about yourself. Watch your life. Notice what happens when nobody assigns you the job.

What do you instinctively improve?

What kinds of problems interest you rather than merely exhaust you?

What do people trust you with?

What do you see quickly that others seem to need more time to recognize?

What have you been doing for so long that you've stopped considering the possibility that it might be unusual?

You don't have to turn every answer into a business, ministry, career, or new purpose statement by Friday. Just notice. For a week, you might even keep a simple note on your phone: "I noticed..."

Then pay attention to your own patterns. There may be nothing profound in some of them. That's fine. But something might begin repeating. And recognition often comes before direction.

What God Has Already Placed Within Us

One of the things I love about Jesus is the way He could recognize something in a person before that person seemed to fully understand it.

He saw faith.

He saw hunger.

He saw possibility.

He called people into growth without requiring them to manufacture an entirely different self first.

That matters to me when I think about purpose. I don't believe our gifts should become another source of pressure or another way of proving that our lives are important. They can be received as something to steward.

So perhaps the prayer isn't always, "God, show me the grand thing I'm supposed to become." Sometimes it can simply be, "God, help me recognize what You've already placed within me. Teach me how to use it with love."

And maybe also:

"Help me know how to serve without disappearing into service."

"Help me recognize what I carry without comparing it with what someone else carries."

"Help me develop what is mine without forcing it to look like someone else's."

This feels much healthier to me than trying to chase purpose as though it's hiding from us. Maybe it isn't hiding. Maybe some of it has been showing up at work, in conversations, around the dinner table, in the things people ask you about, in the problems you can't help trying to solve, and in the particular way you see the world.

Years ago, I picked up a toolbox in a dream and said, "I'm the fix-it woman.” There was no title ceremony, no explanation, and nobody confirmed it for me. It was simply a moment of recognition.

Maybe there's something in your life waiting to be recognized in much the same way. Something you haven't valued because it feels too familiar. Something you've carried long enough that you assume everyone carries it. Something you keep looking past while asking God to show you what you have to offer.

Sometimes purpose isn't waiting to be discovered. Sometimes it's waiting to be recognized.

View this Sacred Reflection here: https://youtu.be/uWKc1Oy4cfo