Work

Work:

Allow me to call it what it is. Don't trivialize it, mentioning the so-called real world. Hours of School

on top of studying on top of clubs on top of volunteering...

is work.
　

Do all the people I know collect service hours because of their passion? Their dedication to a cause

that colors their efforts with meaning, compassion and joy? Or is it to climb up that ladder of

success?
　

It's work because without some of the long-term benefits, I would not be doing some of these

things. A future. A career. A way to earn a living. Achievement. Growth.
　
There are other reasons, floating like plankton beneath the

surface.
　

Purpose. Identity. Approval. Meaning.
　

In school, my grades and my scores and my performance are what set me apart. I do the

work to get the evaluation to set me apart to get picked to get higher education to have a career to

ultimately benefit my life. And mainly my life. Right? Why does that not sound good enough?
　

What about the other lives? What about the Way, The Truth and the Life?
　

I can't reject Work. Though I want to. Because I use it to measure and prove myself in ways that

are just not healthy.
　

So maybe it's time to get a new definition.
　
The modern world says work is the thing that enables you to do what you really want.Were

apparently not getting this right. An essayist, named Dorothy Sayers once wrote about our

society's workaholic nature. According to her, work is
　
"A gracious expression of creative energy in the service of others."

As from the Bible. Work is an act of love.
　

If she's right, than this explains why I'm so much happier working in a classroom with distracted 13-

year-olds than getting an easy A in Anatomy. Yes. Teaching is what I want to do. And the best

ones always do it as a gracious expression of love.
　

In the same way in my career I don't simply want to measure myself in promotions. But instead, did

I really do my best today? Did I grow for the sake of who I'm teaching?
　
But what about all the other work? If I'm willing to change my mind around, can I learn to see

washing the dishes or getting started on a review packet as an act of love?
　

Maybe more than I think. As I sink my hands into the dishwater, instead of grumbling, I remember

that what I'm doing helps my mother out. As I write out notes, half-asleep, I remember that this kind

of thing no longer has to be a way to punish me and make me feel stupid. I need to grow from it, to

understand my future students better.
　

The biggest hurdle that I have against work is that sometimes it seems to serve no other purpose

than to help me survive and give me something to worry about. A discouraging daily grind. But I was

wrong. There's still so much I've learned

That has yet
                           to sink
                                                                   in.

Since work isn't ultimately just an endless grind,

I feel confident in the direction I'm going.

But I still often get caught up in losing sight of all this

with my icky work ethic, complaining, and the pinball stupidity

of my time-management "skills". It's like I can never catch up.

Please, let me learn the lesson.