On Labor Day: What is work to you?
Over the past year, I've been struggling to define the value of work in my life. For years, I have worked in a very compulsive manner--lots of long and late hours, bringing work home, staying at work until the wee hours, working weekends. I usually worked at least two jobs--one full-time and one part-time, sometimes related, sometimes not.
I decided to stop working so much. Not because I had to, although it certainly didn't help my health, former marriages, or my relationship with my now-grown kids. Not because I was told to--I just stopped putting work first in my life, before everything. It's taking a while to really end the need, the compulsion, but I'm doing better.
And I love what I do. As a librarian I get a tremendous variety in the work and, because I work in public libraries, I can and usually do feel that I'm investing my time in the betterment of society. I make a contribution.
I found, though, that I wasn't feeling like I made enough of a contribution. The more I worked, the less of a contribution I felt I made. And I have been spending this last year sorting out the source of that discontent. I know, for example, that I am "called"--I wrote down my purpose a long time ago and I attempt to live it, albeit not always successfully. My purpose, as I've identified it, is to glorify God and be the hands of Jesus in this world showing his love and peace. Sometimes I fail miserably, sometimes I succeed gloriously.
Tonight, after a ten-day vacation when I worked very little (that's what a vacation is, right? to work only a little?), I am having my usual tomorrow is work day jitters. I am dwelling on the importance, the value, of work in my life--in our human existence.
There's L. P. Jones, in the September 2, 2006 sermon at First Presbyterian Church of Birmingham: "Vocation extends the ministry of Jesus. Each of our tasks is holy to God, can be pleasing to God, ordained by God. The world is the orchard of God. We are the fruit. It is not that we bear the fruit--we are God's fruit." And as L. P. continued, he asked, can we smell the aroma of an orchard full of apples here in this world?
George Guidall, in a talk to area librarians, about recording audio books: "The professional is someone who loves what they do, even when they don't love doing it."
Dana Stabenow in the mystery A Grave Denied, wrote: "A lot of people aren't lucky enough to find that one thing they're good at. But if you do, I think you should do it. Practice it. Make a living at it, if you can. Make a difference, if you can."
I'm not alone in this dwelling on "work." Tonight, lots of people, young and old, are contemplating their work of the next day. Students here in Michigan will return to school and some will begin school. If they're like my kids, they may not sleep tonight, or not sleep well, concerned that they don't know how to read or do math yet and they're just starting kindergarten. This school thing can be a tough job for them, especially that first year.
Some, like Will, formerly a favorite server at a local restaurant, who joined the Army just four weeks ago, or Dan, who is starting West Point, have surviving the next day on their minds--and then surviving where the military will choose to use them most effectively. They volunteered to make the military their work, protecting my freedom and yours.
Some labor tonight, even on this Labor Day holiday, because health emergencies--physical and mental--don't take holidays.
And far too many people in this country and around the world, want nothing more than to work productively, earn a living wage--enough to feed, clothe, shelter, and keep healthy themselves and their families--and don't have that option for whatever reason.
Work can be the noose around the neck, the "golden handcuffs" binding you to a better retirement, or the opportunity to express the very best of intention, the greatest kindness, the real-life hands of Jesus in this world--what is work to you?
I know what I want to make it--however I spend tomorrow. And maybe tomorrow, intention will become expression and a reality that makes a difference.
I decided to stop working so much. Not because I had to, although it certainly didn't help my health, former marriages, or my relationship with my now-grown kids. Not because I was told to--I just stopped putting work first in my life, before everything. It's taking a while to really end the need, the compulsion, but I'm doing better.
And I love what I do. As a librarian I get a tremendous variety in the work and, because I work in public libraries, I can and usually do feel that I'm investing my time in the betterment of society. I make a contribution.
I found, though, that I wasn't feeling like I made enough of a contribution. The more I worked, the less of a contribution I felt I made. And I have been spending this last year sorting out the source of that discontent. I know, for example, that I am "called"--I wrote down my purpose a long time ago and I attempt to live it, albeit not always successfully. My purpose, as I've identified it, is to glorify God and be the hands of Jesus in this world showing his love and peace. Sometimes I fail miserably, sometimes I succeed gloriously.
Tonight, after a ten-day vacation when I worked very little (that's what a vacation is, right? to work only a little?), I am having my usual tomorrow is work day jitters. I am dwelling on the importance, the value, of work in my life--in our human existence.
There's L. P. Jones, in the September 2, 2006 sermon at First Presbyterian Church of Birmingham: "Vocation extends the ministry of Jesus. Each of our tasks is holy to God, can be pleasing to God, ordained by God. The world is the orchard of God. We are the fruit. It is not that we bear the fruit--we are God's fruit." And as L. P. continued, he asked, can we smell the aroma of an orchard full of apples here in this world?
George Guidall, in a talk to area librarians, about recording audio books: "The professional is someone who loves what they do, even when they don't love doing it."
Dana Stabenow in the mystery A Grave Denied, wrote: "A lot of people aren't lucky enough to find that one thing they're good at. But if you do, I think you should do it. Practice it. Make a living at it, if you can. Make a difference, if you can."
I'm not alone in this dwelling on "work." Tonight, lots of people, young and old, are contemplating their work of the next day. Students here in Michigan will return to school and some will begin school. If they're like my kids, they may not sleep tonight, or not sleep well, concerned that they don't know how to read or do math yet and they're just starting kindergarten. This school thing can be a tough job for them, especially that first year.
Some, like Will, formerly a favorite server at a local restaurant, who joined the Army just four weeks ago, or Dan, who is starting West Point, have surviving the next day on their minds--and then surviving where the military will choose to use them most effectively. They volunteered to make the military their work, protecting my freedom and yours.
Some labor tonight, even on this Labor Day holiday, because health emergencies--physical and mental--don't take holidays.
And far too many people in this country and around the world, want nothing more than to work productively, earn a living wage--enough to feed, clothe, shelter, and keep healthy themselves and their families--and don't have that option for whatever reason.
Work can be the noose around the neck, the "golden handcuffs" binding you to a better retirement, or the opportunity to express the very best of intention, the greatest kindness, the real-life hands of Jesus in this world--what is work to you?
I know what I want to make it--however I spend tomorrow. And maybe tomorrow, intention will become expression and a reality that makes a difference.
posted by Cecilia Ann | 6:42 PM
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