7 Reasons to Love What You Do

I know.

My blog post title seems like a no-brainer because why on earth would anyone do something he doesn’t absolutely, unequivocally love—given he has a choice in the matter?

Well, I suppose the answer to that is obvious, too. A lot of times, folks may not have a choice.

 

• Take for instance, one’s career. Sometimes, that job isn’t the first choice or necessarily the right fit, but bills must be paid. Groceries purchased. Health insurance covered. It’s a job that lasts for a short season or even a lifetime.

 

• How about the personal caregiver? This might involve a disabled child or an aging parent. Caregiving isn’t for the faint of heart or the easily broken. Caregiving is an art (albeit a challenging one) that’s one of the purest forms of selflessness. And often—in all honesty—it falls upon loved ones because of availability. There’s no one else to do it.

 

• Parenthood. Let’s face it. We love our kids, but what mom or dad loves the spit-up, pooped pants, or heads-stuck-in-coffee tables? The teen angst, the $7,000 orthodontic treatments, and endless headaches over making wise choices? Please raise your hand if you’re the exception because I’d really like to chat with you.

 

The point is there are circumstances beyond our control. Blessedly, even in situations that are less than ideal, we can use those times as building blocks. Stepping stones to enrichment and links to learning. The now in our lives may influence our future, but now doesn’t mean there won’t one day be new.

I wish I had a dollar for every time I let a rut-filled season dictate the consequence. Wow. I’d be sitting pretty by now sipping fancy drinks in my tankini on my own private island.

But unfortunately, most of us aren’t as smart in our youth as we are decades later.

And really, it’s those valleys—those out-of-our-control cracks and crevices—where we grow the most anyway.

I’ll use myself as an example.

(Bear with me—I’ll get to the 7 Reasons to Love What You Do soon.)

When I graduated college, I landed a job in a helping profession. Loved Jesus. Loved people. Loved the idea of helping others and serving the underdog.

It took less than a month to realize that I’d made a terrible career move. To compound matters, I stepped even further into an area that was steeped in generational cycles, archaic mindsets, and bureaucratic thinking.

I was a very green twenty-something, out to change the world, naïve young gal who thought compassion, innovation, and hard work would trump the ugliness of my profession.

While I never lost my Pollyanna mindset (remember cute, little Haley Mills in the Walt Disney film?) I did grow up in a real hurry. With bills to pay (car, rent, utilities, a few meager groceries, and other living expenses), I realized I was stuck. For a time. A season.

During those few short years, I continued to plan, dream, and hope. I actively wrote and ferreted away fictional vignettes and snippets of frustrations. My dream was to one day write novels.

One day.

When I married I continued to work. When my husband and I started a family, I became a stay-at-mom, later returning to the work force (in a different profession) on a part-time basis.

I loved (and still do!) being a mom. There were sacrifices, but again, I had a plan. A dream. A hope.

I cleaned up spit-up, poop, and Cheerios, and breastfed everywhere on God’s green earth.

Why?

Well, you know it wasn’t for the money. It was for my babies.

Fast forward a decade. I still had a plan. The dream. A hope.

But…

One of our children almost died.

Life forever changed.

Days, weeks, and years were marked with sadness and pain. Time lapsed into a series of hospital stays, surgeries, and medical events.

Instead of writing subjects, verbs, and adjectives, and crafting stories of love and romance, I learned words like ulcerative colitis. Bleeding out. Colectomy. Stoma. J-pouch procedure. And a thousand other medical terms.

And I crafted a different story. A love story, perhaps, but not the traditional story I had in mind.

It was the story about a mom and the sacrificial love for her child.

It wasn’t my choice and certainly not my plan, but God used my caregiving years for good.

Our son thrived. He grew. He got better.

He wasn’t healed the way we’d planned, dreamed, or hoped, but God’s way was higher than our way.

His timing. His plan.

Today, our son is an educator and teaches impressionable young minds. (Praise!)

 

WHAT I’VE LEARNED ALONG THE WAY…

 

We won’t always love what we do, every minute, every millisecond of every day. It’s just not going to happen. (If someone tells you otherwise, he’s fibbing.)

Even though my yesterday’s now is today’s new, the writing life is difficult. It’s a state of fits and starts, transitions, and pauses.

However…

This is what I’ve waited for!

I’m living my plan. My hope. My dream.

Yesterday’s gone.

Today I have a choice.

 

IF YOU HAVE A CHOICE…

Grab it!

Hug it to your heart so hard that it’ll suffocate any iota of doubt, dismay, or discouragement!

Don’t squander your time or dwell on years seemingly wasted. They weren’t.

You were being pruned, groomed, and beautified.

Today is your new.

 

THUS…

 

7 REASONS TO LOVE WHAT YOU DO

 

1. God’s prepared you for this. You’re done wondering (and wandering). This is your time!

 

2. You’re no longer a nomad in the desert. You’re a visionary on the journey.

 

3. It’s not always peaches and cream, but most days it’s good. And sometimes, it’s tart, but with a little spice.

 

4. You see possibility. You realize your potential and you’re excited about it.

 

5. Others are blessed by you. You’re unique. No one can do just what you do. Congratulations!

 

6. It thrills you. It makes you light-headed, giddy, and warm all over. It’s like being in love. Because you are.

 

7. It’s only just begun. Your best years aren’t behind you. They’re your now. Your new. And they’re bursting at the seams with promise!

 

With all my love, friends!

******

Why do you love what you do? What did I miss?

If you’re not there yet, what can you do to change it?

 

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Blessings Always,