His eyebrow quirked up. “What if you’re playing with your kids or it’s nighttime or the weekend?”
I smiled. “My kids know Mommy is clear on what she’s been called to do. They know I love them because I say it. I hug them. I play with them. I’m engaged with them. But, I answer the phone. They listen. They learn.”
We talked more about why I don’t have “office hours” and how that impacts the other areas of my life. I considered our conversation after he left and have continued thinking about it. Why am I content – peaceful, even – about the mountainous amount of hours I work?
Two reasons: It isn’t work. It will stand the test of time.
It isn’t work
I’m very blessed to have figured out early on how God made me to operate and in what fields that works best. Okay, I didn’t really figure it out – wise people pointed it out, but that’s close, right? What I do for a living, I’d do anyway, even if money wasn’t involved. It’s who I am. Who I was created to be, just as much as I’m meant to be Mom and Wife and Daughter and Sister and Friend.
It will stand
More importantly, though, is the sure knowledge that the work to which I put my head, heart, and hand is work that will stand. I just re-read Jeremiah 51, another rendition of how God will avenge Israel and basically annihilate Babylon, the country that dared to mess with His people and His consecrated worship items. The lines of verse 58 gave me pause.
The builders from many lands have worked in vain, for their work will be destroyed by fire!
A spurt of sympathy shot through my heart, thinking of those guys watching the ruin of all their work. Walls that their bloodied hands struggled to build would come tumbling down. Why? Because they worked for the wrong boss. As we say here in the country, they hitched their wagons to the wrong horse.
Once again, that conversation with a colleague came to mind. Why do I think letting my children see me work is more important than playing CandyLand uninterrupted? Because they need to see their mother make a decision for the work that lasts. They need to know the hard truth: God is a priority above them. I love them more than my next breath, but I must love the One who gives me breath more. I have to trust that He really is in charge. That His timing really is loving. That, when a project lands in my lap which requires urgent focus and attention, He knew what was coming even before we got the CandyLand box from the closet – and He’ll hold my little ones’ hearts while I am about His work. As a matter of fact, He’ll hold them more perfectly than I ever could.
And, just maybe, I’ll raise kiddos who trust Him, too.