The Chosen

I'm slowly working my way through the final season of "Dead to Me." I'll try not to give any spoilers. I also don't remember the dialogue perfectly, so I'm taking license.

So there's the sweet, "what is the universe trying to teach me," patchouli oil Judy (in contrast to the tough, sarcastic, very un-zen Jen). Judy really wanted to have children, but none of her pregnancies took (in contrast to Jen, who has two boys). 

Judy is talking to an older woman, who's talking about her own kids. There are those that are good, but one who was sent on earth, she jokes, to make her life hell. "You don't choose your kids," she says. "They choose you." 

She asks Judy if she has any children, and she sadly replies no, that "She wasn't chosen." 

"Well," Florence shrugs, "maybe you were chosen for something else." 

That exchange got the pondering juices going. 

In the Jewish world, we may think that there is only one way to have meaning and purpose in our lives. Which is the accepted model of marriage and children. But what if someone marries late, or never marries, from no fault of their own? What if someone has children late, or never has children, from no fault of their own? 

Does that mean they have no purpose? They have no meaning? 

Of course not. 

It's at times like this that I think of that Shakespeare quote, "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy." There is so much we don't understand. We are so bound by our small human minds, thinking that there is only one way to do things, only one way to live, only one way to be of worth—but we are so much more than that. 

Sometimes I see advertisements for a dinner or something and they say about the honoree: "He/she is a devoted son/daughter, husband/wife, and father/mother." 

That's always annoyed me, because aren't we more than our relationships? We have value on our own two feet, with something to offer, especially when circumstances doesn't place us with family? 

Maybe, we are chosen for something else.