Somewhere in the middle of dodge ball tag and baking cookies with three grandsons, my youngest grandson cocked his head to the side and asked, “So Grandma, what do you two do here all day long?”
And as I looked down at him, red-faced and panting, echoes of that question dittoed through my mind. I’ve been asked it before. Lots.
“What do you do all day?” people asked of a stay at home mom.
“What do you do all day?” my Italian friends probed in my missionary days.
“What do you do all day?” ministry senders asked as if our livelihood depended on it, which it did.
“What do you do all day?” church audiences inquired as we presented a missionary care ministry.
Even when I feel like I have so much to do that I hardly can take the time to breathe, I’ve always found a need to describe exactly what I do…daunting, and… maybe a bit, annoying.
Although perhaps the answer to it has never felt more inexplicable than when a half-pint-sized round-eyed boy, who calls me “Grandma,” posed the question.
I realize that for many, I have little to show for what I’ve done in my life.
Most jobs are immediately understandable by their label and title. Worth immediately establishes, and money proves it. Clocked hours and careers verify it. But most of my life, my roles have been difficult to define, leaving me sometimes feeling “less than,” and in the process lowering my value.
We all want recognition for hard work and heart passion. But our value is often tangled up in things we do rather than the people we are.
As my grandson and I walk inside to prepare cookies, that whisper of the Spirit nudges me with a deeper and even more uncomfortable question.Our value is often tangled up in things we do rather than the people we are Share on X
“Who do you work for, Sylvia?” Because, that is the bigger matter. It begs a bit of examination and surrender.
God looks at us differently than people do. His evaluations look past all the outward and reach into each heart. Deep down where even we can’t see, His Spirit probes.
My husband assures me I do work, and heavens, I feel like I do, but every time I’m asked what I do, there is that momentary falter.
As I embark on a new month, a new year, and new plans, I pull, as I often do, from the wisdom of the Apostle Paul. He reminds me Who I work for and why.
“Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men, knowing that from the Lord you will receive the inheritance as your reward. You are serving the Lord Christ.” (Colossians 3:23-24 ESV)
I may spend hours meeting deadlines, mentoring couples, discipling others, hosting and just you know, the never-ending-work of living. And those may offer a modicum of satisfaction and reward.
But, to a little boy waiting with a sideways cock of his head, what does it all matter? What answer does he want or need?
The value I put on what I do must be subservient to the value of Who I do it for, and the “why” with which I do it.
Living daily as God desires, doing what He calls me to do, regardless of its recognition, brings value to His kingdom. And that matters.The value I put on what I do must be subservient to the value of Who I do it for, and the “why” with which I do it. Share on X
So, with another flip of the calendar, it’s good to be reminded. Because the greatest reward or motivation for each of us should be, “Well done, good and faithful servant.” (Matthew 25:23)
My grandson stands on a stool for counter height while globs of chocolate cookie dough roll between his hands, sticky and dark. “What do you do all day?” he asks again.
I pause before that little puckered face and think, “What of true value have I done today that will matter in eternity?”
There is a bit of silence except for the sound of mushed and mutilated muddy sweetness squeezing in his fist. He waits for my answer. Somber expectant ocean blue eyes hold mine.
“Well, sometimes,” I finally answer, “I make cookies with a very special grandson.”
He wrinkles his forehead, as if that maybe doesn’t actually count. And kind of like, maybe, I should know that’s not a good enough answer.
I’ve had that sort of response before.
Then he lifts and drops his shoulders with a shrug. He gives me his million-dollar-worth-every-minute, and-all-the-money-in-the-world-smile and slaps down his dough.
But I’m certain, in that moment, that it was really the very best of answers.
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