postcards from nowhere

Greetings!

Last weekend I accompanied my partner to his annual employee picnic with 
some trepidation.  (I get nervous about making small talk with strangers.)
As soon as we loaded up our plates we could put it off no longer.  It was
time to find a seat and start the small talk. 

The woman across from us immediately greeted us with a smile and an 
introduction.  Her friendly gesture disarmed my fears, and before I 
knew it we were chatting like old friends. 

Common ground showed itself immediately . . .  children.  Hers were 
absolutely cherubic with golden curls framing round faces and big brown 
eyes.  Mine were not there.  (It was their dad's weekend with them.)  
But she asked questions about them and seemed genuinely interested in 
the answers.  

Watching her interact with her kids was delightful. She spoke to them 
with such love and respect.  So I was thrilled to hear that her own 
children are not the only ones she takes care of.   She works for her 
school district, in the program that provides after school and summer 
care for ages 3-12.  As she spoke I watched an already beautiful woman
become absolutely radiant.  She loves her job.  Loves it.  Loves it!

Her story was engrossing to me because so many in her position are tired,
drained and burning out.  Caring for children is one of the most 
potentially exhausting kinds of work out there, and the 'pay' and 
'benefits' are ridiculous.  Nevertheless, she seemed to derive boundless
energy and joy from her work.

The joy shining from her eyes was magnificent in its brilliance.  Her 
heart was bursting with love.   I couldn't stop smiling as she told me 
story after story of the specialness she could see in each child.  How 
each child was different, and how she loved paying close attention to 
each one to learn how to reach him or her inside in the deepest way 
possible. 

Aha!  Attention!  Could that have something to do with her deep 
satisfaction?  It seems to me that often we become tired, bored, or 
burned-out when we become so accustomed to our work that we take it for 
granted and stop paying attention.  (As a matter of fact, that dynamic 
holds true for more than just our careers.)  I imagine it would have been
easy to lump children into various categories (temperament, etc) and once
having done so, stop seeing them as unique individuals and instead manage
them by type.  But every single day she saw something different in every 
single child.  She paid attention to their moods, their feelings, their 
accomplishments.  It's a cliche that no two children are alike, but she 
was actually living it . . . delighting in it!  

She was the poster child for how it can be when we do what we love and 
love what we do.   As I listened to her I thought about all the people 
who have given up this kind of joy and fulfillment in trade for a high 
salary or security or whatever seemed more important to them.  And I 
wondered, how could it possibly be worth it?

An inner joy and contentment so immense that it cannot be contained in 
a body and must radiate into the world cannot be bought with the largest
salary or insured with the best benefits package.  It comes only from 
doing what you love, what is so much a part of who you are that you 
would do it for free.  It comes from offering your deepest gifts to 
the world, and not from managing your life to make sure you will receive
the gifts of others.   And it comes from paying attention to what we are
doing and to those around us as if this moment were our very first one 
together, and could be our last.

Thank you, Linda, for reminding me of the potential for joy in each one 
of us.  Those children in your care are blessed, and so are all who cross
your path.  It was a pleasure to share a meal and an afternoon with you.


Wishing for all of you the kind of joy and passion that makes life worth
living,

Karen

p.s. I love my job!  I help my clients to access their deepest gifts and 
offer them to the world.  If you are ready to live your life from the 
heart, please contact me for a free coaching session.  (I work by 
telephone sessions and/or email.)