Saturday's child works hard for a living, the familiar poem sings. But for us Monday through Friday, 9-5ers, isn't saturday supposed to be a day off? And yet, such a division of days seems a but outdated for many-if not most-in our current times. I am a full-time working mom, and by full-time I do not mean merely the 40 hours each week that I spend at an office. Today was a "day off" from work- but there was much to be done. The tasks of laundry, dishes, preparing meals, running errands, and the endless "teachable moments" of child-raising remind me that there are really no days off. And it is such with the spiritual life as well. Be it sabbath or work day, the laboring of the inner life continues- reaping its own rewards along the way.
And what are these rewards? If the goal of work were monetary reward, these daily tasks would not amount to much. Even paid work offers little extra, as we barely chip away each month at the debt we acquired in those lean beginning years when state aid pulled us through. Making ends meet makes us lucky ones now. I know many people who are struggling financially- job insecurity, home foreclosures, overwhelming medical bills are an everyday part of so many lives. In this world I live in, we are all treading water. Some are on the verge of sinking, and in this broken system we lean on each other. The economic paradigm we were handed no longer works, and we must create new ones. These same struggling ones I know are the groundbreakers, laying the foundation of a new local economic paradigm. Together we lean into a new vision of community.
This new vision is spiritual too. As I labor at my household- the inner rooms as well as the inner life- I wonder often: What am I laboring for? What is birthing in me? And I wonder if this work of the spiritual life is heading somewhere too.
At the end of the day there are new dishes in the sink, newly soiled clothes in the hamper. Work is an ongoing cycle, and the end of work cannot be the destination. Rather, it is the work itself that must bring its own reward. It is my 6-year-old peeling carrots beside me, and her delight at the yummy healthy tomato sauce we have made. It is my 8-year-old asking over and over the meaning of new words she has encountered in her quiet reading. It is the challenges of these labors that bear their own fruit- the learning, the laughing, the mind-stretching and growing that offer their own reward.
In this new paradigm we work so that we may grow. And the measure of good work- just work- is not in the price society has placed upon its worth- but rather in the depth of its roots reaching downward into the soul of one who labors. Even the seemingly mindless repetition of dish-washing is a chance to practice patience-- to follow the breath, to be present plate after dirty plate. My work too is this listening, this diving deep into the meaning of things, this passionate loving of my life-- a life of immeasurable price.
And what are these rewards? If the goal of work were monetary reward, these daily tasks would not amount to much. Even paid work offers little extra, as we barely chip away each month at the debt we acquired in those lean beginning years when state aid pulled us through. Making ends meet makes us lucky ones now. I know many people who are struggling financially- job insecurity, home foreclosures, overwhelming medical bills are an everyday part of so many lives. In this world I live in, we are all treading water. Some are on the verge of sinking, and in this broken system we lean on each other. The economic paradigm we were handed no longer works, and we must create new ones. These same struggling ones I know are the groundbreakers, laying the foundation of a new local economic paradigm. Together we lean into a new vision of community.
This new vision is spiritual too. As I labor at my household- the inner rooms as well as the inner life- I wonder often: What am I laboring for? What is birthing in me? And I wonder if this work of the spiritual life is heading somewhere too.
At the end of the day there are new dishes in the sink, newly soiled clothes in the hamper. Work is an ongoing cycle, and the end of work cannot be the destination. Rather, it is the work itself that must bring its own reward. It is my 6-year-old peeling carrots beside me, and her delight at the yummy healthy tomato sauce we have made. It is my 8-year-old asking over and over the meaning of new words she has encountered in her quiet reading. It is the challenges of these labors that bear their own fruit- the learning, the laughing, the mind-stretching and growing that offer their own reward.
In this new paradigm we work so that we may grow. And the measure of good work- just work- is not in the price society has placed upon its worth- but rather in the depth of its roots reaching downward into the soul of one who labors. Even the seemingly mindless repetition of dish-washing is a chance to practice patience-- to follow the breath, to be present plate after dirty plate. My work too is this listening, this diving deep into the meaning of things, this passionate loving of my life-- a life of immeasurable price.
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