THE WORK IS NEVER DONE
Between the life that you lead and the one that you pray for…
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Let’s see if I can describe this so that you can visualize—
Eyes closed, balanced on my knees, I reach my arms up and over to grasp my feet, as I bend my body like a bow.
“Breathe,” I tell myself as the pain sets in.
“Hold,” I whisper as the giving up begins.
From somewhere beyond the intensity of my focus, the playlist streams in, sounds of a children’s chorus singing of a bigger wisdom than their years—
“The work, is never done.”
I’m not precisely certain of when or how it happened, but in the center of a busy stretch class what was held, was released. Tears are often an unexpected messenger, their words engraved on the heart:
Dear Soul, you are fatigued from the fight. This emotional battle is bigger than you know.
I am aware in an instant that this playlist verse is the mantra of my life. And it settles in me like a life-long friend, one who tells the truths most difficult to express.
The work…is never done.
When we become kindred to the message, it is no longer “life vs. us” but an all-encompassing, all-consuming decree, one built not only into the framework of our existence but into the structure of every living cell.
Over and over our bodies labor—regenerating, removing, reproducing.
I take my cues from my biology, not only praying for a miracle but joining in the restoration work.
“Why do you look so good” My oncologist’s words sound like the image of someone scratching his head. “It’s the work,” I answer boldly. He doesn’t take my answer lightly. We both know what’s at stake.
This, my healing body, is the outcome of focus, intention, diligence with no end in site.
Sometimes the mental fatigue catches me off guard.
The work is never done.
Sometimes I just need a break.
The work is never done.
Sometimes the picking and poking is just too much.
The work is never done.
Sometimes the learning overwhelms me.
The work is never done.
Those who sit and wait…and wait.
Those who know and hesitate.
Those who point and blame away.
Those who regret and do it anyway.
Power isn’t found in a victim’s stance. Nor is it discovered in a magic infusion or pill. The work is where that power is. In the midst of the tears…and pain…and sweat.
Between the life you lead and the one you pray for is the work that defines you.
What work have you begun? The power is not only in the work that’s been started, but in the revelation [and then the agreement] that it is never done.
NOTES:
I think I love that you can see the Port catheter imbedded in my chest [see it protruding on my right side?]. This is my illustrated story, a testament to a work not yet complete.
“My patient’s would rather sit in my chair and eat a Big Mac than do what you are doing.” This is the rest of the statement my oncologist made when we met. I understood precisely what he was telling me. Their work hadn’t really started yet.
The work is never done. This statement isn’t meant to make you weary but embolden you to stay in it…and with it…until the very end.
When we to stop striving for a life that’s clean…or uncomplicated…or easy, we can fall into each moment as it comes, allowing what is to mold us into something we never thought possible.
Something you should know:
The phrase, “God’s work,” repeats 800 times in his book, more than all the terms used for worship, music, praise, and singing combined. I think this means work is important to God. I think that’s because He knows that’s where transformation lies.
The Bible describes God’s work as creation, providence, and redemption. Every single day we are breathing, in one form or another, we benefit from all three.
It is estimated that 330 billion cells are replaced daily. Our own bodies are a living testament to God’s passion for renewal. Sometimes I believe that I can feel that internal work…and it’s not always comfortable. But if my body can do it without conscious effort, how much more can I accomplish when the rest of me joins in?!
When we abuse our bodies by ingesting substances that are counter to healing, we make that work harder—in essence, we interrupt the miracle flow, and then have the audacity to question the absence of miracle manifestation in our lives.
The miracles we seek are not some far-off “someday” for “someone else” unreachable fantasy but built right into the framework of how we were designed. Once you take hold of this reality, you will grab on to God’s miracle momentum and let it heal you. But remember…the work is never done.
ABOUT THE IMAGE: My son, Quinn, took this picture. He knew it was for this blog. Some of what I am going through is genetic. My sons are all acutely aware. Yet, how remarkable that the lessons are generational. They still have time to do the work.