Today at church, Matt talked about work and the ways in which our attitudes and actions at our jobs reflect our Christian faith. He brought his sermon to a close with four main points:
- Your work has eternal implications even if it has no apparent eternal value.
- How you perform at work is as important as where you work.
- How you perform at work is as important as how you act at work.
- Putting your heart into your work allows God to bless your work.
The thread of the sermon that struck me the most was, again, this idea of being placed somewhere to do a work, like Nehemiah, who was working so hard on a great work that he couldn’t come down off the wall. How can I put my whole self into my work? How can I let my work reflect my spirituality in a way that witnesses Christ’s love to my colleagues? I know it isn’t the way I’ve been working, nor the way I’ve acted in the past. I just need to keep reminding myself that I need to remember whose I am before acting or speaking. I am a new creation, so I should act like one.
After church I went to my parents’ house and spent a few hours with them while we planned our summer vacation. We got everything taken care of, except for the tickets to the Minor League AAA All Star Game. Supposedly they are on sale, but it seems as if we may just have to mail in the order form, which seems odd in this digital age. We tried to call today, but they didn’t have access to the tickets. Hopefully, tomorrow I’ll be able to get them ordered when the box office is open.
When I was finished at my parents’ house, I met Merideth’s mom, Alane, at Ivanhoe’s for lunch. I got the half fruit plate and it was HUGE! There is no way anyone could ever eat the whole fruit plate, unless I just can’t put away fruit like other people can. Alane had the grilled cheese which she said was really delicious, but she couldn’t finish hers either.
We had a nice chat.
There is no easy way to move on when someone dies. Dave wasn’t my dad, he certainly wasn’t my husband, but he was my friend, and I miss him. I can only try to imagine the pain, the sadness, the overwhelming grief of his very close friends and family, and all I can say is that sometimes things are hard, they don’t get easier fast, and sometimes they never get easier. Sometimes our losses are so deep and so painful, they just sit there seething, chafing under the surface, and I, personally, have no way of helping someone through that type of pain other than just sitting across the table from them and opening my heart to try to absorb some of it. And even then I feel so inadequate. So fucking cheap and fraudulent. I don’t understand, so I just sit and try to love.
I’m emotionally spent today, so I don’t have any excellent spiritual insights to give. Instead, I invite you to give yours. What did you learn today? Something I could learn from? What bit of knowledge, what gem, did you receive?
Thing is, there’s nothing to say anyway, just acknowledge the elephant in the room. And while we often–especially we smart word-nerd-types–ridicule and malign the often irritating things people say in a time of loss, it is important to recognize the heart underneath. Nobody–nobody–ever says, “Oh, but he’s not suffering anymore” or “You wouldn’t have wanted him to live as a vegetable” or “God knows what he’s doing” out of spite or meanness. They say those things out of love. And the grieving owe it to their loved ones to accept the annoying shit along with the Dickinson poetry in the spirit it is given. I’m preaching, sorry. This is something that bothers me, when grieving people get hateful because nobody can help. Nobody can help. That’s just how it is.