Do you ever wrestle with what your role in life is supposed to be? James, a main character in my book “Seasons” (working title) wrestles with his role in life several times during the War of 1812 against England. A part of him feels he should volunteer to be a soldier especially when he hears the exploits and near death experiences of his friend Jake. Each time he voices his frustration with being on the sidelines, his family and friends and work associates all hasten to remind him that he is doing vital work right where he is. He is overseeing supplies sent to the army, breeding horses for the army, has a shipyard in Pittsburg that is building boats for the navy and he helps oversee the arsenal in Pittsburg that is manufacturing munitions used by the soldiers.
I think people always wrestle with their role in life, are they doing enough? Are they doing the right thing? But when is enough enough?