I may be one of a very people on this planet in America, that did not grow up with Saturday morning cartoons. Not because we didn't have a T.V. Not because we lived in the Ozark Mountains and had no reception. Not because we did not have electricity, or my parents forgot to pay the cable bill. It was simply because my parents came from a long line of farm stock and Saturdays were chore days. ALL DAY! It didn't matter that we lived smack dab in the middle of the big city. It didn't matter that all we had was one dog, or that we got our bread, milk and vegetables at the grocery store down the street. Now, you might be thinking, "Then how many chores could you really have?" Well, it was a mystery then as much as now, but I'm telling you the list NEVER ended!
My parents were born in the Great Depression. They watched their parents, their neighbors, work, scrape and do anything they could to feed their families and keep clothes on their bodies. They grew up with a strong work ethic, and their significance and survival came from all they could do.
I can recall when I had 3 young children at home and one permanently implanted at my hip, and my mom would call me on the phone. Inevitably she would always ask, "What did you get done today?" I wanted to yell, "NOTHING, I simply sat on the couch and drank coffee and watched dust collect on my coffee table." But instead I felt a pang of guilt. Had I done enough? Checked enough boxes that day? Was I worthy? Was I significant?
So when I had my own children I wanted it to be different. I didn't want their significance to come from how much they could perform, get done and an endless task of chores that never would get checked off. It was Saturday morning cartoons for our house. And it was me, Mom, running around completing all the tasks and chores it took to run a household of 7. Because being a person who got their value from "doing" I never minded doing it all. I was filled to the brim with significance. I was indispensable. Only now do I realize what I have done.
There is a difference between finding your significance in performing and serving, and serving out of a grateful heart. One fills a void in you, the other fills a void in others. I may have rescued my children from living a life believing that they are only as good as what they can produce, but I robbed them, and me, of an important balance.
By doing everything I was still feeding the monster of "I am only valuable if I perform." I was also robbing my children of Colossians 3:23. "In all the work you are doing, work the best you can. Work as if you were doing it for the Lord, not people." If they are to learn this and grow into young adults, get married and teach their children, why am I not modeling this in my home?
Why? Because I only felt as good as my to do list said I was. But I am learning I am so much more than what I got done today. Because today maybe was the day I sat and rocked my one year old grand-baby, or spent the day outside in the garden with my grandson watching and marveling at the dragonflies and bumble bees.
God put Adam and Eve in the garden and then instructed them to work it and take care of it. Genesis 2:15. God knew honest hard work was good for our soul. Not because it made us worthy, but because it made us holy.
My search for significance was not born out of the powerful truths of scripture. Instead I allowed my self esteem, security and purpose, to be dictated by worldly sources. And these rewards fulfilled me for a short time, but they soon turned into an urgency to perform again to seek the same approval.
But I do remember a time when working hard was a blessing. This time in my life was the summers I spent on my aunt and uncles farm in Minnesota. Unlike my "big" city life, the country life was a drastic contrast. There were eggs to collect, potatoes to peel, and endless dishes to wash and dry by hand. When we were roused early from our slumber, we grumbled and complained of walking the bean fields to pull the weeds that sprang up. But here is what remains from my summer memories. The countless dishes we washed and dried four times a day, bonded us. The endless chatter and sharing, laughing and teasing, gave us community and closeness. The bean fields that we walked in those early hours were full of jokes, pranks and so much laughter. Even to this day we laugh about those silly milkweeds. We were many hands working together to make a family. We fell into bed at night exhausted and satisfied. And this is where I learned the value in the fourth commandment. "Remember the Sabbath day by keeping it holy. For six days you shall labor and do all your work, but the seventh day is a Sabbath to the Lord your God. On it you shall not do any work. Exodus 20:8
Sundays were looked to with great anticipation. There was always more chores that could have been done, but my family kept the holiness in the Sabbath. There was balance to working for the Lord, and resting in the Lord. This was God's design.
So as i sift through my to do list, I remember the difference in working hard for the greater purpose, and working hard to be admired by others. Significance comes from honoring what God has called me to do. It is His to do list that becomes my priority.
I was a mama who accepted and lived with the stress of an overwhelmed schedule. Too many things to do, not enough time. What I was really living with was a soul that ached. I knew that there was more that God made me to do, and I yearned to do it, if only I could get some of the things off my to do list!!! He is showing me step by step now, how to honor the time that He is giving me. To direct my path to work as if I am working for the Lord. And truly that significance fills my soul with peace and joy!