In movies, particularly kid’s movies, there is a triumphant scene in which the good guys win, the bad guys lose, and everything is set right. Sometimes there is a little bit more movie to tie off all the loose ends, and then the credits role. The story is satisfying and complete. Life is not like that. Oh, there are definitely triumphant moments. The moment when we win the race and hold the trophy high. That feels good. But life does not stop and roll credits. Instead there is the next morning when we roll out of bed with sore muscles, eye that trophy which represents a pinnacle of achievement, and wonder what comes next. Sometimes the next goal is obvious, sometimes it is not. But off we go to chase the next prize.
This morning I had a patch of weedy clay which is supposed to be a vegetable garden. I took a shovel and turned over all the earth. I then dumped fertilizer on and shoveled it in. This evening I led a parade of children, so that they could each help me put a plant into the ground. Each child carefully dug a hole in the now soft soil, placed a plant, and tucked it in with a layer of dirt. They stepped back, satisfied with their work. I stepped back too. It was a beautiful brown patch of dirt with little green sprouts of life sticking up in neat rows. I was tired, but it was done, a triumph. Only, it is not done. If I walk away from that garden calling it complete, it will die. Those weeds that I dug out are going to try to come back. Those plants that I put in are going to be thirsty. Life does that. Offers us little triumphs saying “Congratulations. Now get back to work.”
From this perspective, the triumphs can seem futile. Why should we strive, if the reward for a job well done is another job? The secret to happiness lies in loving the work. Sometimes we can choose to do the work that we love. Other times we must simply find things to love about the work that we must do. I did not love all the shoveling, but it was satisfying. There was measurable progress toward something that I do love, the planting. It was also good exercise, something I need more often. I am frequently grouchy about putting my kids to bed, but when I slow myself down, I can find pieces of it to love. I do not like doing dishes, but I love having a clean kitchen.
This evening I wiped the kitchen table in preparation for dinner. In the midst of wiping, I had a triumphant moment. I realized that for once I’d accomplished all the tasks of the day. The garden was ready, the laundry was running, dinner was cooked, the kids were playing. I had a momentary thought that I’ve gotten pretty good at this. I have learned to juggle all the tasks necessary to run a household, a family, and a home business simultaneously. I do not always succeed perfectly, but I am capable of far more today than I was five years ago. It was an invisible moment of triumph. No one noticed it but me. I have a lot of those. I take them where I can because I have just as many or more failures, some of which are very visible indeed. Either way life tells me the same thing. “Congratulations, (or condolences) Now get back to work.” And I do, because the work is good.
It’s the little things.
It’s the laugh of a child. Your loved-ones’ hug in passing. The tail of your dog giving you a wag just because you’re there. The warmth of the sun on your face. The glee of making a snowball.
It’s the little things in life that make a difference for me. That help me get through the trials and tribulations and boredom and repetition.
The best bit is, you’ll never know they’re there unless you’re always watching for them, waiting and ready to enjoy them as they come by.
For me, it’s not so much “Congrats, get back to work.” It’s more a farmer’s vacation (“Tired of plowing? Paint the barn!”) with little bits of joy embroidering around and throughout.
-John