Work, Work, Work.

I subscribe to a number of blogs.  Most are artistic, many are money-saving.  One of the artistic ones today was about the loss of the "trophies" of life, those accomplishments and people to whom we can point and be proud.  All the "look what I did" things.  You can find it here:  Little Apartment on the Prairie

She referred her readers to another blog, saying "This post inspired and touched my heart this week: When Your Trying To Get Your Priorities Straight, in fact it's going on my fridge."

And here is that post:  Holy Experience

I was a young mom like these two women, and I remember what it was like.  My house was busy and loud.  There was laundry and housework and meal preparation and dishes and baths . . . this endless doing of the necessary things in my family's life.

"I was made for this," I thought.  And I was.  I was good at it, and I enjoyed it.  I still do. Having said that, I must admit that I am a horrific housekeeper.  I still love that old saying "Hush up, cobwebs, dust go to sleep.  I'm rocking my baby and my baby won't keep."

We are made and created to worship and love God.  We miss so much of the unseen world because we simply can't see it.  It is beyond the physical realm of the world in which we live, so the great challenge is to strive to see that unseen place.  We can only do that via Jesus, and this draws us back to Him over and over again.

It's easy to say that because these higher callings are so important, the work should usually go by the wayside.  By that I mean not that we let our homes dissolve into chaos -- rather, I just mean letting "work" take last place in our view of our priorities.  As usual, it's much easier to sway from one extreme to the other, instead of trying to find the balance between the two.

But I think work is right up there with those higher callings.  God gave us work; it is the thing that keeps us engaged and learning and involved and interested, and even connected to each other.  I believe there will be work in heaven.  The word gets such a bad rap -- "work" -- as if it's always hard.  But it can be incredibly rewarding.  I remember doing laundry in the basement of the house, folding and matching endless pairs of little socks.  And when it was all done, I had a deep, incredibly wonderful feeling of accomplishment.

I connect with God through worship.  He meets me there and fills me up.  I could never do without that, without pursuing a life of adoration and worship for Him.  But . . . I also glorify Him for giving me work.  Working with my hands and accomplishing something is simply doing what He has made me to do.  It's like a child looking up at a parent, and when we do it well, God is as pleased with us as we are with ourselves.  It's all good.

We must be careful because we are compelled to measure.  And measuring only gains us meaningless trophies.  I loved seeing all that laundry done -- but it wasn't really something I thought should be reported on the nightly news.  It's just laundry, after all.

But it was my work.  And I did it well, and God was just as pleased then as He is when I look up and praise Him or pray or ponder the unseen world.

Oh, the love of God and the balance to which it challenges us.  Talk about work.

xoxoxox