“The foolish seek happiness in the distance, the wise grow it under their feet.” — James Oppenheim

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For the longest time, answering the call was about doing something religious in life – being a monk, a priest, a rabbi. It is more complicated in our more complicated times. Mediation once happened in monasteries; now it happens in backyards, living rooms, and bedrooms.

The spiritual idea has grown, but organized religion has not. These days, some think Jesus loves and lives to make war. And lots of Christians seem to agree. Judaism has wandered all over the place, but not quite that far.

I’m not a priest or politician, and I always thought a call was something outside of myself, rather than the powerful stirring inside of me I couldn’t understand but couldn’t escape either.

When I got older, I began to understand the call as what some describe as the longing inside ourselves to be fully and usefully human. I see now that ordinary people like me – and the people reading this – can have one. Everybody has a call to something.

One of the gifts of aging is that one can almost automatically give up on foolishness. There is no time to waste.

On the days when I believe in God –  once a month or so or whenever the President blogs on his podcast –  I thought my calling is to writing, or then to nature, or then to blogging, and then I landed – to do some good in the troubled world. It sounds simple, but it wasn’t.

The God I believe in, at times, believes we were all given particular gifts of mind and soul, of body and brain.

My fleeting God is believed to believe there is no such thing as not having a call since he gave everyone a calling and expects them to answer it. No other living creature is given callings.

My idea of a calling was writing at first, and for the longest time, I wanted to pursue it when I was eight, but it has evolved as I have grown older and see that my calling is to use my remaining time to do good, since it is both easy and important. My meditations brought me there, thanks, Thomas Merton. He said a calling had to have love in it somewhere.

We live in a country, for example, where millions of people struggle for shelter, food, money, or community or medical care. People in need are everywhere.

Sadly, the richest country in the world has 48 million people who live in households without enough food. That includes 14 million children. I got the idea of my calling – helping food pantries. The needy line up to get in. They are easy to find.

Writing is a calling for me, as is creativity, but as I got older, the curtains opened, and I realized there is no easier calling on earth than helping people in need. So I decided I was called to it.

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They are everywhere, aching for help. I set out to help people with no place to go – the elderly in special homes, immigrants, and the homeless. I’ve been busy and happy ever since. I had a purpose that made a distance, the joy of old age.

I found that I was good at it, and it did more good than only writing books, blogging, or taking pictures of flowers, things I love to do.

For me, the question shifted and was not “how do I know if I have a call, but how to do it best and most meaningfully? And when.”

Old age answers the last question, as it often does. At my place, there is no time not to have time. That’s what I mean when I write that old age is liberating.

The brilliant Joan Chittister wrote, “The depth of the human struggle that underlies that question is enough to shake the human soul.”

It sure shook mine.

My search for a calling shook my soul. It separated the old from the young, the rich from the poor, the giver from the taker, every spiritual seeker who believes that the universe has a purpose from the Billionnaire or the materialist who believes the planet was created to earn and gain as much wealth as is possible.

I know many people and have met many who believe the world was created for their personal happiness and comfort. Who really needs a $500 million yacht to sail around the world for a few weeks a year while so many people struggle for food?

That’s a big question no one seems to be asking in our country. Since no one needs that much money to live, why is there no end to the desire for more?

I can’t imagine the answer; I am grateful it’s not my problem. That isn’t a calling for me, unless there is one for greed. I was taught that money put food on the table and paid bills, not that it made people poor and brought great suffering.

It’s embarrassing to even ask that question about how much money a billionnaire needs.

I didn’t want to be one of those people, although I came a little close during my book-writing career. I never had nearly a billion dollars, but I did make enough to waste it and eventually give it all away. It saved my life. I’m not one of those people who have to have one or two million to survive old age. It will never happen.

Fortunately, I got rid of it before it wrecked me, and I had heard the call to have a chance to be a better human.

I want to love my life for the satisfaction and assistance of others, and I am no Mother Teresa. I think of myself often and take care of myself when I can. Cameras cost a lot of money.

This final calling feels wonderful. I expect and hope to keep it for the rest of my life, and the odds are very good.

This calling gives my life the purpose I always sought but couldn’t find.

I think I knew my calling was right when it lifted my heart rather than left it empty.

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