Working for a Song

I felt like I "should" be doing something that was more...important; more impressive.  Maybe I lacked initiative to really DO something in the world.  Maybe I was nothing, could do nothing more important than what I did.  Maybe I should be embarrassed.  Maybe.  But I wasn't.  And sometimes even that bothered me.  

This is what I do.  I wash loads upon loads of laundry and have it hanging and sorted for a young mama who works all day and wants to be present for her kids when she comes home.  I go to the grocery store for an older couple who have trouble walking and come back and put it all away for them.  I clean the bathrooms for a woman who schools several of her children at home and her husband wanted to bless her with some help.  I run errands and pick up kids from school and take the cat to the vet for a woman who has it all materially and yet, finds herself watching her mother fade away with dementia and is shouldering the responsibility for that.  I come alongside a woman who needs help reaching and organizing because she hurts everywhere and it's so much easier to not have to bend.  

That is what I do.  None of it uses the college degree I have.  None of it even requires much special skill.  Most of the time I look a mess, all bleach stained yoga pants and no make up. Sometimes I miss getting pretty clothes on and feeling like a lady.  And yet, I noticed a curious thing one day while I was on my knees scrubbing at a toilet.  I was singing without realizing it and it seemed to be coming from my heart.  What is wrong with me, I thought to myself.  Why am I so happy??   No one should be this happy cleaning a toilet!  Perhaps I am too easily amused.  I should find higher ground.

The singing got "worse".  I couldn't seem to stop myself.  The joy and contentment was out of hand.  I was getting worried.  And then, one day help arrived.  I took a "gifts" assessment and received my diagnosis.  There, at the top of the page, shining like the emerald city, was my one word prescription.  "Server".  And then I knew why my little caged bird self sings while I haul someone's cat to the vet....I am finding my joy in doing what I was created to do.  I love by serving and, in return, my Creator loves me by setting me free to do just that.   And all that is within me sings out spontaneously to Him.  

So, if I'm ever serving you, please try to look beyond my messy hair and "robe of splendor" that looks suspiciously like work clothes and know that I am loving you because He loved me and showed me how.