The Dangerous Trap of “Always Wanting More” (And Why You Can’t Stop Chasing It)

Some days I can’t wait to get out of bed and get moving.

Moving toward what?

Nothing in particular. But staying still means I’m boring, doesn’t it? Surely the next best thing is just over the hill or beyond that rainbow over there.

What rainbow, you ask? Dorothy’s rainbow, of course.

Beyond the rainbow is wonderland. Although, for our purposes, I believe we shall call it wander land.

The internet is full of wonderful things that catch my attention. Suddenly, I must have one. On closer inspection, perhaps I don’t need it nearly as much as I thought. It may sit in a corner gathering dust while the next big thing appears on the horizon.

Obviously, I am chasing something.

But what?

I believe our Creator gave us a desire to explore, learn, and grow. Sometimes, though, I get in my own way. Sometimes I need to sit quietly, listen, and hold back that opinion I’m certain the conversation cannot survive without.

Many times, I’ve caught myself mid-thought, having lost the thread of a conversation. The point flew out the window. Rather than pause, I reach for anything passing through my head and follow it down whatever path it opens.

Apparently, even my mouth needs to keep moving.

I’m always wanting to move forward. Perhaps you’ve felt that pull, too—even when where you are is more than fine. For that particular moment, it might be near perfection.

So, where am I in this moment?

I haven’t hidden the fact that I’ve reached the stage of my career when I must decide: should I retire or stay? What comes next? Where will I find purpose?

And there it is again—that call from wander land beyond the rainbow.

Oh, yes, I need to go there. Beyond the rainbow, I’ll find my heart’s desire.

Wait a moment.

Desire for what, exactly?

That got my attention.

What do I need? Do I really need more than what I have—family, faith, food, conversation?

I sit back and take a sip of coffee.

Cold.

Well, let’s move on.

There I go again.

A few moments ago, my head was full of things that might make me feel whole. Things that might make me feel important. Make me feel that I matter.

Was that what all this was about? My perceived needs?

I need family. Yet I have family, including grandchildren who keep my heart busy.

Faith? I have faith and a wonderful congregation that encourages me and gives me opportunities to serve.

A wife who adores me.

Oh, all right. She tolerates me. Let’s say it plainly.

Just kidding, dear. Big hugs.

Whew. Almost backed into trouble there.

We have food. Just check the pantry. There’s conversation, too. And when the humans have nothing to say, I have three dogs, demanding turtles, and a cat whose intentions remain suspect.

So, what am I looking for?

It turns out I’ve been looking for myself, and I’ve been along for the entire journey.

What gives my days purpose is something I’ve suspected—and practiced—for a long time.

Care.

Care for others. Care for myself. Actual care that asks something of me beyond words. Care that may even take me outside my comfort zone.

There are people right here I can listen to, help, and learn from. There is room to grow in the life I already have.

Perhaps I’ve spent so much time looking for somewhere to go that I nearly overlooked my reasons to stay.

Well, I’ll be.

I didn’t even need a Texas tornado to send me on this journey.

“The liberal soul shall be made fat: and he that watereth shall be watered also himself.”

— Proverbs 11:25, KJV