Tangible Contribution

Any calling I have entered into as an adult has lacked tangible means to measure my contribution.  Marriage.  Ministry.  Motherhood.  How do you know if what you are doing is making an impact?  What's the goal, anyway?  When you sit at a review (and two of these callings have no formal review process) what does your personnel committee really measure?  On many, if not most, days, when the sun sets I wonder what difference I made.  The 'long view' is my only saving grace.

To offset this, I turn to concrete tasks.  Concrete tasks help soften the blow of writing sermon after sermon on loving your neighbor, which from evidence taken in the committee meetings, are falling on deaf ears.  Concrete tasks round out your usefulness when your day has been spent folding bulletins...half of which won't be picked up.  Concrete tasks are helpful when you've sat with someone for the third week in a row listening to absolute horrific pain and sorrow, knowing full well there are no words, let alone yours, that will fill the hole in their life.  I'm not saying what I did wasn't of value or wasn't meaningful.  In most cases, it is exactly what I was called to do and be.  But it just so happens that what I am called to be isn't very concrete.  I can't measure if it made an impact. This may not be as frustrating to some as it is to me.  I like to know where I stand.  I like tangible.  I really like tangible growth.  And, I'd like it rightnowplease.

When I served as a full time pastor, my days off were dedicated to cleaning the house.  I took absolute joy in seeing my pristine white towels folded and stacked in a orderly fashion.  I was satisfied to remove a full bag of dog hair from the vacuum.  I stood back and sighed in bliss at the sight of a sparkling kitchen.

These days, I take the same joy in laundry stains.  I find deep satisfaction over my success at getting mustard, chocolate and grease stains out of EG's clothes.  (I say EG, because the rest of us manage to keep our clothes nearly food-free.)

I am just finishing up her dress from Sunday.  White hem and chocolate ice cream...what a delight!  What fun!  Absolute joy!

I'm not sure my words of correction, insight or admonishment are making any in roads with her development (or him) but I do know my bleach pen got the chocolate out.  Proof enough, for today.