All In a Day's Work

Last night before I tucked her into bed, I asked my four-year-old daughter what she wanted to be when she grew up. She smiled, cocked her head, and said, "A superhero." Given the recent devotion to classic DC comic book heroes and their related action films and cartoons at our house, I didn't give much thought to her answer at the time. However, this morning, as I made breakfast, I happened to glance out the window and notice that my Amish neighbor was plowing for all he was worth in the glorious May sunshine. With each furrow of rich, black, Iowa soil that he turned over, I think I better understood what my youngest child was saying.

You see, I'm sure that my neighbor doesn't consider himself a superhero, even though he literally feeds the world by his humble, daily chores. Neither, for that matter, do most people as they plod through life. Work - even with the most rewarding tasks and the most convivial environments - is generally associated with stress, headaches, ungrateful bosses, difficult coworkers, deadlines, paperwork, micromanagement - the list goes on and on. How does this happen? How do the imaginary games and grand dreams of our early childhood, and our idealistic and passionate striving of early adulthood lead to everyone simply having a job they can barely tolerate and doing work that is uninspiring and wearing? Surely something's wrong here.

I vividly recall being four years old and swaggering around town with a sense of distinct pride because my daddy was a plumber. That meant that he knew all sorts of magic about such important things as pipes and wrenches - substantial, heavy, necessary things. The kinds of things that remain a complete mystery to most people, hence the need for such a capable, vital, professional man as my dad. But, more than that - beyond just knowing things that were unknown and unknowable to other people - he also had a job that made a difference in the world. There's not much more welcome sight than a plumbing van when your toilet is clogged or a pipe is endlessly spraying water all over your carpeting. I think I totally had it right at four years old, as does my daughter today - my dad was (and still is) a superhero, and we all can be as well.

That's it then. In order to become a superhero we should quit our jobs and become plumbers, right? Not exactly. My mom worked in Human Resources and saved jobs, marriages, and families by her encouraging words, willingness to listen, and genuine care for people. (The candy on her desk didn't hurt things, either.) My sister is a pharmacist, and her careful work (as tedious as it can sometimes be) literally saves lives and prolongs health and vitality. My husband works at a waste water plant. And - even as inglorious of a position as people generally think that to be - what he does ensures that we will have safe, sanitary living conditions today, and clean rivers and streams for generations to come. Every person I know - from my grandmother who proofreads the local paper, to a former student who bags groceries at the mom-and-pop store in town - goes to work with a cape under their uniform, though whether they ever use their powers is truly up to each individual, each and every day.

You see, you don't have to pull people from burning buildings or dive from the top of a skyscraper in order to be a superhero. All it takes to unfurl your cape and unleash your good deeds upon a populace in desperate need of being saved is for you to recognize your own ability to make the world a better place right where you are. There is not a single job on the face of the planet without merit or the opportunity to make a positive impact in someone's life. For, as Martin Luther King, Jr. said, "All labor that uplifts humanity has dignity and importance, and should be undertaken with painstaking excellence."

So, if you'll excuse me, I've got some villianous dust bunnies to slay and a date with destiny at the dishwasher. It's not an easy job, mind you, but somebody's got to protect the slumbering citizens of this household. As you can see, I'm choosing to embrace my inner superhero as I head off to do the tasks at hand, and I hope you'll do the same.