Some things are just meant to be, or maybe we just become who we are meant to be.
A couple of nights ago, my wife and I were enjoying some peas and carrots at home. We happened upon a movie entitled “Four Letters of Love.” (It starred Pierce Brosnan so guess who chose that movie.) It’s an odd little Irish film that punches well above its weight. Adapted from a novel of the same title by Niall Williams, the plot follows two young people from two different families separated by the breadth of Ireland—one from Dublin, the other from one of the Gaelic-speaking islands off Ireland’s wild west coast. That’s all I’m going to tell you here, but the storyline has left me musing about one of life’s oldest conundrums: are our lives preordained by a higher power, or are we the stuff of free will? Are we a blank canvas upon which we’re free to paint our own lives and stories, or has the Master already drawn the outline and all we can do is fill it in with our own pale colors? Hmmm….
I so clearly remember the first time I laid eyes on this little house with its welcoming front porch fifteen years ago. It was as if I had been searching for it my whole life and suddenly there it was with a “For Sale” out front. My wife is a realtor and knows pretty much everything there is to know about real estate, especially about the perils of buying an old wooden house with only a single bathroom. I’m sure she may have been right, but I had no choice in the matter: this was the house I was meant to own and the life I was meant to live—with her, of course. She still shakes her head about that decision…the house, I mean.
Be that as it may, I’ve come to believe that I am right where I’m supposed to be, living the writing life I’m meant to live. Twenty years ago, if you had told me that this would be my place or my career, I would have looked at you like you were a character in an Irish movie speaking Gaelic. But you would have been quite right, because fortunately, at least so far, it has all worked out. Or is still working out; no story is ever completely finished.
In “Four Letters of Love,” many of the people who inhabit that story hear God speaking directly to them telling them what to do, or they challenge God to give them a sign about a decision they should make. That’s merely a literary device, but the point is they are of the opinion that God is working His purpose out and we’re all just along for the ride. Maybe that is part of a uniquely Irish ethos, but it’s a valid question.
As I grow older—and I’m about to turn another page on my own calendar—I’m coming to the conclusion that as appealing or as frightening as free will may be, we’re more likely characters in our own fables seeking out the destinies we already own and passing them along to those who come after us.
It’s worth thinking about.
I’ll be right back.
