Faith In Our Profession
How learning to trust our path gives us the strength to serve -
I’ll warn you up front that this article includes the #humblebrag that borders the jurisdiction of Facebook. It also involves my family, as I’m about to tell you how my son, a difficult blanket to fold to say the least, continues to teach me about the virtues of patience, hard work, and persistence. And it starts with the fact that I try not to use any artificial motors when I perform lawn maintenance at my home.
“Dad, what can I do for money?” he asks. A question that is growing in frequency as he develops into the age of wanting, nay…NEEDING the digital devices flashed about school by his friends.
“Go pull the weeds.” I tell him, making sure I do it in such a way as to remind that doing so has always been an option for receiving financial compensation around our house.
“[uhg]” his shoulders slump and his chin drops when I remind him of this. “Is there anything else I can do?”
“Sure. Edge the lawn.” I say this with a wry smile, aware that his physical development is likely less than necessary to work the manual contraption. “It’s easy. Just set it down like so [I run it back and forth a couple of times, trimming the turf that has crept onto the driveway] …a couple of passes, and – look - you’re done."
“You make that look so easy.” He says in a tone filled with plea, arms outstretched with palms facing up. “I’m not strong enough to do that!”
“Then go pick the weeds.” Third verse, same as the first. It’s important to note that the reason pulling the weeds is such an onerous task is because it requires that you set still for a while. This is something that my son and I struggle with. He and I aren’t the set-still “type”. Worse - Mosquitoes, foggy sun glasses, and the tickling sweat dripping off your nose remind you that you could be, should be, moving around instead of setting amidst the humidity of our Alabama summers.
“[ugh]” again, he grunts from his slouched posture. He didn’t have anything more to say, and so I went back to my task. I was sure that he would go inside and look for an opportunity to practice the verbal fencing he performs so well against his siblings or mother. I know that he’ll eventually get there, to the point of realizing that servitude is the purpose – the purpose that gives us the energy – the energy to do the work – the work that makes us stronger – strong enough to serve – [ and repeat]
It’s at that point I look up from mowing the lawn to see this.
I was dumbfounded.
I was proud.
I smiled, then calmly walk/ran inside to grab a camera.
I was also humbled, reminded that sometimes I don’t find the strength to do the work that’s needed until I decide that the work will be done, must be done. I call that acting on faith. I strongly believe that if he’d told himself that he would merely “try” to do the work, that he would only have realized that he “couldn’t have”. Instead, he resolved that he “would” do the work, at which point the hardest part was “already complete”.
Our professions, and it's no different here at Cycle Rate Performance, are opportunities to find challenge. They are a media by which we are given a purpose to serve. If our purpose is centered in our vision, then we will have the energy, the energy to do the work that makes us stronger – strong enough to do it all over again tomorrow.
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