I once went on a Catholic retreat with a group of teenagers. Each of us had to meet with a priest to discuss our intentions for the weekend: what we wanted out of the retreat and what worries might hold us back from being fully present. I was a little uncomfortable, not being a particularly religious person.
But I still confessed that I was obsessively worried that I might never find my life’s purpose. I even spontaneously burst into tears as I said it to him. The only part of his response I remember is this:
“Every morning I wake up and say a little prayer that each day I meet everyone with love and kindness.”
Six years later I realize that’s the only purpose that mattered.
