Journal for Christa—
I wish God had made me just one inch taller—
I don’t know what it is about the beginning of school that makes me feel like I ought to clean—Jay says it’s because I don’t want to grade papers. I think it may be that the list I made at the beginning of summer is somewhere on my desk upstairs. Whatever it is, it’s Labor Day—so it seemed a good day to labor. And, if I were just an inch taller, I could have reached the top of the cabinet doors with my Mr. Clean sponge. I could also have reached the top corner of the dining room window on the ladder outside, but I couldn’t. I needed one more inch.
Unlike today’s activities, for the most part, I think people ought to spend most of their time laboring in their areas of passion.
I have a neighbor who’s crazy about drama. She amazed me when I worked with her 20 years ago, and she amazes me still. She directs a few plays every year—with her church and with the homeschool group she works with. I don’t think she ever gets paid money for her labor, but she loves it. She loves seeing a vision become reality; she loves the rush; she loves the opportunity to give her plays a spiritual spin. And, when kids and parents appreciate her, that’s just kind of extra. It’s her passion. People often get tired working with their passions, but they rarely get weary.
But—today is Labor Day, and cleaning house is NOT my passion. One can’t always only do the things she loves. Some things just must be done. They are responsibilities. As much as I like my house, I’d never spend all my time cleaning it. That would just make me weary. I have, though, often thought, when cleaning the freezer chest—
If God had just made me three inches taller…