A word about work:
I've been back to work since January. Five full months. I'm substitute teaching on the average of four days a week, working at the deli when Margaret doesn't want my shifts. The fifty hour weeks aren't happening anymore, and I'm grateful.
Those sort of weeks can be truly killers.
My life has changed, but I think for the better.
I appreciate more. I revel in the moments in the sunshine, sipping coffee or tea, watching my pets snoozing. I pick up a book with discretion, not abandon, and read judiciously.
I value my time.
I think I'd love being a painter, a knitter, a seamstress, but I have to plan these moments now. I can't just fritter away my time. I purposefully plan projects and MAKE time.
This is a good thing.
We humans are created for work. I think we'll have work to do in heaven. Wonderful, fun, fulfilling work.
But there is no reason to think that work can't be fun here too.
I enjoy subbing. I like the kids. I like the teachers. I like the school district I work for. I am happy to get phone calls from teachers planning their upcoming absences, instead of getting a generic call from Kelly Services. I like to look forward to a certain group of people.
And the deli is fun too. I am meeting people with interesting stories and lives. I take a certain amount of pride in little things, like slicing meat perfectly, hitting the exact weight desired by a customer. Why shouldn't I find a certain satisfaction in something so mundane?
Work is good.
I also mark my work here at home more astutely. Getting the laundry done, cleaning the kitchen, clearing out the endless accumulation of STUFF is a worthy calling. It's living. It's work.
It's good work.
Enjoying a perfect spring day in a perfect spot is all the more perfect because it can be savored more poignantly.
That's what I'm learning, a valuable lesson.
I've been back to work since January. Five full months. I'm substitute teaching on the average of four days a week, working at the deli when Margaret doesn't want my shifts. The fifty hour weeks aren't happening anymore, and I'm grateful.
Those sort of weeks can be truly killers.
My life has changed, but I think for the better.
I appreciate more. I revel in the moments in the sunshine, sipping coffee or tea, watching my pets snoozing. I pick up a book with discretion, not abandon, and read judiciously.
I value my time.
I think I'd love being a painter, a knitter, a seamstress, but I have to plan these moments now. I can't just fritter away my time. I purposefully plan projects and MAKE time.
This is a good thing.
We humans are created for work. I think we'll have work to do in heaven. Wonderful, fun, fulfilling work.
But there is no reason to think that work can't be fun here too.
I enjoy subbing. I like the kids. I like the teachers. I like the school district I work for. I am happy to get phone calls from teachers planning their upcoming absences, instead of getting a generic call from Kelly Services. I like to look forward to a certain group of people.
And the deli is fun too. I am meeting people with interesting stories and lives. I take a certain amount of pride in little things, like slicing meat perfectly, hitting the exact weight desired by a customer. Why shouldn't I find a certain satisfaction in something so mundane?
Work is good.
I also mark my work here at home more astutely. Getting the laundry done, cleaning the kitchen, clearing out the endless accumulation of STUFF is a worthy calling. It's living. It's work.
It's good work.
Enjoying a perfect spring day in a perfect spot is all the more perfect because it can be savored more poignantly.
That's what I'm learning, a valuable lesson.
No comments:
Post a Comment