“Emptiness through Worldly Productivity” by Dana Redrick

                  I come from a family of overachievers.  And I fit right in.  To be honest, I never really knew any different.  I was a Clark.  It was what Clarks did.  If there was a task to be done, we surpassed expectations.  If there was a competition to be had, we finished towards the top.  If grades were given, ours were superior.  Did my family expect my very best?  Sure.  Was that wrong?  No.  This was my life.  It was good. 

                 Without even realizing it, I grew into a woman who found her worth in praises that other people dispensed.  If the world felt I was successful, then I had worth.  The more tangible tokens I collected of my past accomplishments, the more valuable I must be.  Right?

I became a stay at home mother over twelve years ago and, with that, I transferred all my worldly productivity into household tasks and the molding of my children.  However, that time has been peppered with personal struggle.  How can the world measure my worth when there is nothing immediate to show for my work?   What will others think of me when my resume can be whittled down to practically nothing?   

Early in my stay-at-home-motherhood journey, my husband would be the lucky one who heard the long list of tasks I had accomplished each day.  If I could rattle off a multitude of mundane chores I completed, then I validated myself.  If a family member called, I would naturally talk about my busy-ness with the children to prove I was still a capable woman.  This has put me in a bit of a predicament now that my kids are getting older and needing me in different ways.  My preoccupation with their needs is dwindling as they become more independent.  If they are my job, my worldly productivity, then who am I now?

Over the last several years, I have grown to realize my vantage point of worldly productivity and earthly opinions is off-center and needs to be adjusted.  Those early years of wanting to shine for people created much emptiness in me.  Through a long and difficult journey of introspection that I continue to face daily, I now realize how distorted my viewpoints had been. I am child of God.  That is why I have purpose.  That is why I have worth.  That is why I have value.  Not because I can exceed projections or surpass goals or be given an accolade that boasts of some success, but because I am a child of God and He calls me His.  And what does He desire from me?  Two things:  to love Him and to love other people.

If you were to ask me what my projections for the next year are, I would not be able to give numbers or statistics or percentage increases that have any earthly value.  But, with complete confidence, I will say….

I will go on dates with my husband.  I will take walks with my friends.  I will gently rock a child who has been taken away from his mother. I will have lunch with a newcomer. I will share a conversation with a homeless man. I will make soup with my daughter.  I will play games with my son.  I will celebrate a new life.  I will hear the frightening diagnosis of a precious friend’s daughter.  I will listen to stories of young love.  I will play in backyard family football games. I will cry with a friend who is struggling to bond with her adopted child. I will visit my grandmother and she will not remember my name or that I was even there. I will challenge a dear friend to be still and slow down.  I will yell obnoxiously loud in the bleachers at my son’s sporting events.  I will listen to my daughter perform in a recital, with butterflies in my stomach. I will call my dad.  I will run with a friend who feels detached from her husband. I will have strangers share their stories with me.  I will sit on the couch, talk and eat ice cream with my husband. I will console a friend facing infertility.  I will witness a new marriage.  I will hold my neighbor’s hand when she sends her last daughter to college. I will talk with a middle school girl as she tells of adolescent hurts. I will welcome someone to church. I will sit with a mentor who is learning to live without her husband. I will spend Mother’s Day with my mom. I will painfully kiss one more foster child goodbye and anticipate the arrival of another. I will welcome my 40’s.  I will cry loudly, I will laugh wildly, I will hug tightly, I will smile brightly and I will love deeply.   

So, world, I will have nothing tangible to show for my year.  I have no promises of productivity that you can acknowledge or praise.  Nothing that would make me an impressive candidate for whatever job is posted. But I have come to realize that I have only one audience member.  It is Christ I seek to please.  By intentionally loving Him and loving others, my emptiness will be filled.  And although the seeds He is planting in me and through me may not bear fruit for a long, long while….the garden He is growing promises to be breathtaking.