At a recent employee meeting, Unity World Headquarters CEO Jim Blake invited us to answer, “Why I …” as in “Why do you work here? What inspires you?”
As I walked back to my office, a coworker shared why she came to Unity—how she’d taken a pay cut in order to be of service to the world. My answer was simple and certainly not as noble as her story. I needed a job, and because my grandfather had retired from Unity after 50-plus years, I was guaranteed an interview as a legacy. I was hired, and 29 years later, I’m still here.
So for me, the “why” that sparked a response wasn’t why I started here, but why I stayed. And my answer to that is this:
- To serve myself. Being surrounded by inspiration at beautiful Unity Village, Missouri, feeds my soul.
- To serve the world.
- To be creative because creativity is integral to who I am.
- To help provide for my family.
I know I’m on track because every once in a while the Universe provides a subtle nod—a divine thumbs up. Have you ever received those? They come when we’re feeling tired or when self-doubt starts to nudge itself in our brains. This is when a favorite song comes on the radio, a friend calls out of the blue, or any number of other messages.
Divine synchronicity reminds us that there’s something greater than ourselves at work in the Universe.
One instance will always remain with me. Several years ago I was inspired to write a Daily Word message on “Grace” that began: “Everywhere I look, I see God’s grace reflected back to me.” There was nothing too Pulitzer Prize-winning about it, but it felt right.
Months passed before a letter came across my desk.
It was from a woman who shared that her younger sister had suddenly made her transition on the same day the “Grace” message appeared. When her family went to her apartment to clean out her belongings, her sister’s copy of Daily Word was turned to that message for the day.
What was her sister’s name? Grace.
This reader truly felt the message she read was divinely sent, just for her, to help her cope with the tragedy—a divine reassurance that Grace was still with her in spirit.
I heard a starfish story a while ago. It went something like this:
A man was walking along the beach and saw a boy walking toward him, pausing occasionally to pick something up and throw it in the ocean. The man asked the boy what he was doing. He replied, “Throwing starfish back into the ocean. They can’t get back on their own, so I’m helping them.” The man replied, “There are thousands of them. You can’t possibly save them all, so what’s the point? It won’t matter when the sun comes up.” The boy picked up another one, tossed it in the water, and replied, “It matters to that one.”
Perhaps, just perhaps, my one starfish was Grace’s sister. If that’s the case, I feel content. It made a difference to her, which is good enough for me.
And that, my friends, is why I do what I do.