Work

It seems strange to want to sanctify a good day's work, but as I sit here with a pleasantly tired body from yesterday's kitchen renovations, I am reminded that work is a good thing. I sit in front of a computer most days, my body slumping into a fixed position. It is a joy to do real labor, whether in the house, in the garden, or on the farm where we get our vegetables. I realize that saying this puts me in the class of the "wealthy" or something, one of those people who might, in another time, have said that "the poor" ought to labor because "it is good for them." But that's not at all what I mean.

I respect labor and those who do it. Having had jobs that require great physical strength and gotten a few injuries along the way, I understand how a life of labor can be difficult on one's body. Those experiences put me in awe of people who construct, tend plants, or farm for a living. I appreciate the things they make all the more for it.