I Am Not My Work, But My Work Does Matter

I remember years ago when my husband was going through a difficult time, we were talking about what kind of careers he might switch to (and I’ll be honest that I was functioning in a little bit of fear in that conversation because he’d worked for so long to get a foot in the door of his current career and we were approaching financially stable for the first time).

He finally just blurted out “I just want to do my work, why can’t anyone understand that?”

I remember, not just because the outburst was somewhat out of character for him but because his comment separated career and vocation from calling. In his mind, his work was what he was called to do, the work that he had been put on this work to accomplish to make the world a better place. He didn’t feel like his career would give him that unless it was a different kind of career.

Things have changed somewhat in that area but I can understand what he means. There is something in my soul, especially as a creative person, that wants to do the work of bringing something out of nothing. Being creative feels like magic somehow. (Though I prefer to think of it as getting to experience, through grace, the creator side of God.)

The problem is there are things that I wish were my work, that I feel like should be my work that just aren’t or aren’t yet.

My children are a big part of my work, my calling. How do I know this? Because I have them. It doesn’t mean that every mother or father doesn’t have a job, career or calling outside of parenthood but it does mean that once we have children, being a parent is an inseparable part of who we are and the work we do.

I see these lovely mugs and memes talking about our greatest work not being something we do but someone we raise, and my heart wants to believe that. Because somehow it feels like my children’s success would make all the years of self-sacrifice seems justified. But the reality is that I can be the very best mother and throw my whole heart and soul into raising these children and they still may not be successful by anyone’s measure.

They may not turn out to be wise, kind, talented, self-supporting, or even make the world a better place. I hope and pray they may be at least some of those things, but if they aren’t that doesn’t mean my work wasn’t worth it. Because my value is not based on theirs.

This week I’ve been struggling again with where I fit and I’ve been wrestling with God a bit. When this happens I tend to want to retreat from everything. But I know from experience now that what works best is if I continue to move forward with the work that is in front of me.

It may not be laudable or impressive by human standards, nor interesting or fulfilling to me much of the time, but if it’s the work I’ve been given it’s what I can continue on with until God directs me elsewhere.

Yes, I have novels to finish, manuscripts to edit, publishing to worry about, sermons and talks to dream about giving, platforms to wish for, and influence to envy. But in my hands are a home to lovingly maintain, children/youth people to cherish, a husband to adore, friends to treasure, and a life I want to be present in.

My creative work matters, my job matters, my mental and emotional growth matter but the people in my life matter too. Sometimes they matter more. Even when they feel like the barriers to what I think of as “my work,” the work the world would tell me is more important or significant.

I’ll probably still complain about the dishes and get irritated that my kids don’t do more around the house (and be jealous of their leisure time), but I also labor in my heart to be satisfied with the work at hand and trust that this is all part of the bigger picture of what I’m called to do.