Obviously Invisible

 

"God is not unjust; He will not forget your work and the love you have shown Him as you have helped His people and continue to help them."
Hebrews 6:10

A gentle rain will keep us indoors today, I think. And that's okay.

We've had several days in a row of strenuous physical labour tearing down one of the outbuildings on our property. Then yesterday we took a big load of shingles and insulation and pressure treated wood to the dump.

Heavy stuff, 236 kg to be exact. We know how much it was, since in order to pay the fee, we get weighed in and weighed out. And we schlepped all that down the steep hill to the boathouse, onto the boat, off the boat and into the van, and then off the van into the bins at the dump.

We're all tuckered out.

So a day to stay indoors and turn to less physical work is welcome. There's lots on my list that needs my attention now if "all the fall things" are to unfold in any sort of orderly manner. Lots in the works, and it's all very exciting, with so many little/big tasks and important details to make it happen. So today will be all about that, I think.

And maybe baking cookies.

And it strikes me that no matter what we're doing, there's always the bits that are absolutely necessary but get completely overlooked. Everything I just described, even baking the cookies, has obscure elements that, if left undone would render the task undoable, or incomplete. Components so obvious they can become invisible, yet, if not in place, would leave the whole thing unworkable.

Like the hinge on the front screen door of the cottage.

And I'm thinking this morning about the countless folks who serve in so many capacities to make the world a sweeter, kinder, more equitable place. People who understand what they do to be deeply connected to seeing God's will done on earth as it is in heaven. Vocationally or as volunteers.

People who take temperatures, hand out sandwiches, stand by bedsides as folks are dying. Those who drive others to appointments, preach sermons, change adult diapers. People who sit with confused teenagers just to listen, or clean up after a neighbourhood event, or rehearse on a beautiful Saturday afternoon to be ready for a worship service on Sunday. People who answer the phone in the wee hours of the morning. Or patiently explain something yet again to an adult having a tantrum. Or whatever it is that has just come to your mind that you do that's essential but no one seems to notice or appreciate.

And all of it is heavy, but there's no weighing in and weighing out so you can prove how much you've done. And there's no cool black and white close up of it to prove that you're even there just doing your job.

There's just the doing of it, and the very real potential that it gets tedious, and you feel forgotten.

So, on this rainy Wednesday morning, can I just say,
God sees you.
And thank you.
Thank you for being faithful in the invisible tedium of what you do to make the world a sweeter, kinder, more equitable place, moving us ever closer to where God's will is being done on earth as it is in heaven.

Now. I'd better go take the butter out of the fridge to soften, or there won't be any cookies.

I hear Ken making a fire. How cozy!

Let's see what else this day brings.