The Work

Recently I had this eye-opening conversation with my four year old. She came to me and announced, “When I grow up, my dream is to be a doctor. I only want to be one thing now.”

Previously, she had told me that she wanted to be a doctor and a mom. Sometimes she also would add “farmer” for good measure.

“What about being a mom?” I asked.

“No, I don’t want to be that busy.”

She revealed that she was very concerned about being so busy feeding her children that she would not have time to eat herself. “I just want to have one person to get lunch for,” she explained.

I hid my laughter and said mildly, “Well, maybe in the future you will feel differently about that.”

“I don’t think so.”

And then the other night, I was explaining to her the concept of great-grandchildren/descendants (our Bible story was on God’s promise that Abraham’s descendants would be as numerous as the stars–a tricky concept for a preschooler, I discovered). I mentioned, for the sake of illustration, that her children would be great-grandkids to her grandparents, and there she stopped me. “But, Mom, I’m not going to be a mom. I’m only going to be a doctor. Because I want to help people.”

And moms aren’t helping people?? I thought.

Now, it is true it has been almost five years since I have been able to finish a meal in one sitting. My four year old is very observant. However, my wise husband has pointed out that our children are old enough to understand that mom needs to eat, too, and they can wait a minute or two for their second helping or sippy cup refill.

I need to work on that. Along with all the other, well, work.

I’m still not really used to all the manual labor involved in this calling. Right when I seem to get a handle on the work that mommyhood entails, things change and I’m struggling all over again. For example, now it is winter. Winter means coats and hats and mittens and boots. And buckling kids into car seats while they are encased in heavy sweaters and puffy jackets. And muddy slush tracked daily onto the already questionable kitchen floor.

Some of us in the house are still excited about winter.

Unfortunately, for me the thrill is gone. Because winter = more Work.

The Work and I have a rocky relationship, I confess. The Work brings out in me the full spectrum of human emotion. Frustration. Anxiety. Resentment. Resignation. But also contentment and satisfaction. (When the dishes are done and the kitchen floor is actually clean.)

After several years of being a mom, I still do an awful lot of moaning and groaning about the Work (even if just in my head). I still get anxious and frustrated about the mounds of everything (laundry, puzzle pieces, dirty bibs, you name it) piled up everywhere. I still face the start of winter with a bad attitude.

I guess what it boils down to is that after several years of being a mom…I’m still a sinner. A sinner in need of forgiveness, and an attitude adjustment.

She sets about her work vigorously;
    her arms are strong for her tasks.–Proverbs 31:17

Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord,–Colossians 2:18a

Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might,–Ecclesiastes 9:10a

In Christ I can buckle down, roll up my sleeves, and just do it, confident that the Lord will make my arms strong for each task. I can thank God for a husband who is not afraid of hard work (and often mops the kitchen floor for me!). I can keep in mind that every unpleasant task is helping people, people who love me and whom I love, no less, and that alone is a reason to work with all my might. I can be reassured that God gives me even more reason to forge ahead wholeheartedly–ultimately, I am working for God himself.

In Christ, the Work and I can have the right kind of relationship. One that I can be proud to have my daughter view as she grows up. She will know then that her responsibilities, her strength to fulfill them, and her reason to keep working hard all come from God. And being that busy (as a mom, a doctor, a farmer, or anything else) is the best way to be.