Remembering What's In My Hands
The days lately have been long. The hours of work have felt endless; the work, thankless and fruitless; the rest not enough to refill and refuel me. There are seasons like that. I've done a lot of grumbling--and in my worst moments, even resenting. Weariness can have that effect.
These words have echoed through my mind this week, "Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up." (Galatians 6:9)
In my weariness, my work has often become a long list of items I have to work through. I've missed the bigger picture. I've failed to stop and remember what's in my hands. I've wearied of doing good.
Last night I did stop. I looked at what was literally in my hands. I will never cease to be amazed as tiny, perfectly formed fingers curl around mine. I will never stop marveling at how tiny, how perfect each eyelash and fingernail and foot is. I will always feel a thrill at the look of recognition in an infant's eyes, as I hold them in my hands until they fall asleep. I will never stop choking back tears as I stand at a bedside with a terrified mother, holding her after her infant has been resucitated. I will grieve, laugh, hope, and cry in utter disappointment at times at how hard reality can be. Yes, what I am doing is good. But weariness is no stranger to any kind of work. It was there in the years and sometimes-long hours as a stay-at-home mom. It was there as a student, as an employee in retail, in every role I've filled. It's there in whatever we find for our hands to do.
On my way in to work last night I heard a song on the radio taken from this passage,
"Even youths grow tired and weary,
and young men stumble and fall;
but those who hope in the Lord
will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not grow weary,
they will walk and not be faint." (Isaiah 40: 30-31)
There is hope. There is rest for my soul, so weary of doing good. There is hope of a harvest, of good that can come of all my toil. Oh, how I need those words some days! The work feels endless, with no glimpse of progress! There is the promise of renewed strength, to run and not grow weary, to carry on in the good work I am doing.
My work is not just work. I hold life in my hands--literally, at times, in my work! I always have. In every role I've filled, it's never been about the job itself. I am called to something higher. My work is not just a list of tasks to accomplish a goal, but rather a calling to do the work as if not for the the sake of the tasks at all,
"Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters." (Colossians 3:23)
I cannot stop what I am doing. And to be honest, I wouldn't want to. What help is there, then, but to draw strength from the one for whom I am working? To go on doing good, breathing life, bringing hope? To remember what is in my hands and why it is there? Weariness is no stranger, but I needed to hear that. I needed to know that it doesn't make me weak or selfish to feel tired. And I needed to hear there is hope; that even when the long hours remain long, there is hope. What remains now for me is to stop, to hope in the Lord, to draw on his strength, to go on doing good. What's in my hands is worth being wearied for. God will give me the strength I need to labor faithfully in the midst of it.
These words have echoed through my mind this week, "Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up." (Galatians 6:9)
In my weariness, my work has often become a long list of items I have to work through. I've missed the bigger picture. I've failed to stop and remember what's in my hands. I've wearied of doing good.
Last night I did stop. I looked at what was literally in my hands. I will never cease to be amazed as tiny, perfectly formed fingers curl around mine. I will never stop marveling at how tiny, how perfect each eyelash and fingernail and foot is. I will always feel a thrill at the look of recognition in an infant's eyes, as I hold them in my hands until they fall asleep. I will never stop choking back tears as I stand at a bedside with a terrified mother, holding her after her infant has been resucitated. I will grieve, laugh, hope, and cry in utter disappointment at times at how hard reality can be. Yes, what I am doing is good. But weariness is no stranger to any kind of work. It was there in the years and sometimes-long hours as a stay-at-home mom. It was there as a student, as an employee in retail, in every role I've filled. It's there in whatever we find for our hands to do.
On my way in to work last night I heard a song on the radio taken from this passage,
"Even youths grow tired and weary,
and young men stumble and fall;
but those who hope in the Lord
will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not grow weary,
they will walk and not be faint." (Isaiah 40: 30-31)
There is hope. There is rest for my soul, so weary of doing good. There is hope of a harvest, of good that can come of all my toil. Oh, how I need those words some days! The work feels endless, with no glimpse of progress! There is the promise of renewed strength, to run and not grow weary, to carry on in the good work I am doing.
My work is not just work. I hold life in my hands--literally, at times, in my work! I always have. In every role I've filled, it's never been about the job itself. I am called to something higher. My work is not just a list of tasks to accomplish a goal, but rather a calling to do the work as if not for the the sake of the tasks at all,
"Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters." (Colossians 3:23)
I cannot stop what I am doing. And to be honest, I wouldn't want to. What help is there, then, but to draw strength from the one for whom I am working? To go on doing good, breathing life, bringing hope? To remember what is in my hands and why it is there? Weariness is no stranger, but I needed to hear that. I needed to know that it doesn't make me weak or selfish to feel tired. And I needed to hear there is hope; that even when the long hours remain long, there is hope. What remains now for me is to stop, to hope in the Lord, to draw on his strength, to go on doing good. What's in my hands is worth being wearied for. God will give me the strength I need to labor faithfully in the midst of it.
