How I Accidentally Discovered My Purpose

I always thought life would hand me my purpose in a neatly wrapped box, like something out of an Oprah giveaway. “And YOU get a dream career! And YOU get a calling!” But instead, my life unraveled like one of those tangled necklaces you find at the bottom of your jewelry box—messy, chaotic, but holding potential. My moment of clarity, my purpose if you will, didn’t arrive with trumpets blaring and neon signs flashing. It came when I got lost on a winding road quite literally—and figuratively.

The Day It All (Accidentally) Began

It was one of those muggy hot Alabama afternoons that feels like stepping into someone else’s breath. I was fresh out of grad school, unsure whether I wanted to teach, write, bury my head in archives forever, or just fake my death and start over in the Virgin Islands. Naturally, I chose the most responsible option: driving aimlessly. The kind of drive where you roll the windows down and blast music loud enough to drown out the tiny voice in your head chanting, “What are you even doing?”

Somewhere outside of Selma, I spotted a weathered church with paint flaking off its sign like breadcrumbs leading me in. It wasn’t Sunday, but I decided to pull over. Something about the place felt like a secret too good to pass up—like finding a great diner that no one yelps about. I peeked in the side door and saw the pews emptied, but the air was thick with echoes of sermons and song.

In this off-the-beaten-path spot, I saw a handwritten flyer on a bulletin board: “Seeking volunteers for oral history project. Help preserve our stories.” Before I knew it, I was scribbling down the number. Me? A volunteer oral historian? Sure, why not.

What happened next would change everything. But let’s get to the good part.

Talking to Strangers is Both Terrifying and Magical

A week later, I found myself on the front porch of a 90-year-old widow sitting in a rocking chair that creaked out a rhythm older than her stories. She told me how she and her late husband snuck off to get married at 18, why they fought about butter beans until they got the recipe just right, and how love, she believed, was less about passion and more about partnership.

I mean, who knew a tale about butter beans could make you rethink your entire approach to life? One moment, you’re taking notes; the next, you’re clutching your journal like it’s a lifeline. As I listened to her, something clicked. It wasn’t just her story—it was the act of listening that twisted my insides in the best way possible. I found myself replaying her words in my head that week: “Partnership, not just passion.”

I realized how much I’d been caught up in the wrong versions of myself. I thought success had to be loud, flashy, public. But maybe my calling had more to do with listening than speaking, absorbing instead of performing. If love (and butter beans) required patience, maybe I wasn’t as far off course in life as I feared.

Lessons from That Porch (and Why They Matter to You)

Here’s what I learned from my accidental detour into purpose—lessons I think we could all use, whether in love, life, or a butter bean recipe:

  1. Embrace the Unplanned Moments.
    Life-changing things rarely come when they’re on the calendar. Raise your hand if you’ve ever obsessively plotted out a timeline for your life only to watch every step go completely haywire. Yeah, guilty. Sometimes saying “yes” to the weird, unglamorous opportunities (like accidentally volunteering for a church project) can lead you right where you’re supposed to be. Life is a little like a first date: the more you try to force it into your perfect vision, the less fun it is.

  2. Listening is Underrated.
    Whether it’s a partner, a family member, or a stranger with an endless supply of biscuits, listening makes people feel seen in a way nothing else does. I mean really listening. The kind where you don’t scroll Instagram or think about what you’re saying next, but instead let someone’s words hit you like they’re Gospel. You can’t build a relationship—or find your purpose for that matter—if you’re not paying attention to what genuinely makes others tick.

  3. Get Comfortable Being Uncomfortable.
    Did I feel completely out of my element sitting on a stranger’s porch, unsure if my Southern politeness was coming off as endearing or just awkward? Yep. Did it also push me into a level of self-discovery I wasn’t ready for? Absolutely. Growth (and, let’s be honest, dating) is like breaking in a stiff pair of boots. It’s uncomfortable at first, but the reward is in the journey of making them yours.

  4. Your Story Doesn’t Have to Have a Bow on It.
    We spend so much time waiting for the perfect moment—the career breakthrough, the magical partner, the “I’ve made it” realization. Spoiler alert: sometimes, those moments never come, or they look completely different than you imagined. The old woman who spilled her heart out to me didn’t create some cinematic life, but her story was rich precisely because it was messy, human, and real.

Where That Path Has Led Me (So Far)

I could tell you how volunteering for that oral history project turned into a passion for writing, one I never planned on but now seems so obvious that it’s ridiculous I didn’t see it earlier. I could tell you how those front-porch interviews became the foundation for every story I write—whether it’s about dating, culture, or the mistakes that make us all gloriously imperfect.

But here’s the truth: The purpose I accidentally found didn’t look like what I expected, and it still evolves every day. Sometimes it’s a paragraph I write for this publication. Sometimes it’s a conversation with a student who lights up because they finally “get it.” Sometimes it’s pausing to walk my dog at dusk knowing I’m exactly where I should be, just for that moment.

Finding Your Own Accidental Purpose

Here’s the thing: Maybe you’re not looking for your life's grand purpose when you pick up an old hobby, take a detour on the way home, or say “yes” to an offbeat opportunity. Maybe it’ll sneak up on you like it did me when I stumbled into church that afternoon. Maybe purpose isn’t a loud epiphany but a collection of small, accidental choices that feel just right when you lean into them.

So, if you find yourself lost, driving aimlessly down roads you can’t quite map, thinking, “What am I even doing?”—don’t panic. Purpose doesn’t always show up like a red carpet moment. Sometimes, it looks more like finding magic in a butter bean recipe.