Labor never ends. Even after you’ve given birth. Even after you’ve cleared the lawn of weeds and laid down mulch. Even after you’ve met a deadline. Even after you’re kids are grown up and now you’ve got an empty nest.
The work of parenting, earning, supporting, learning, growing, discovering never ends. The labor of living life to the fullest.
Maybe it comes in waves. More exhaustion then less. More work then less. More frustration then less. Up and down. Ebbing flowing. The work we do is in constant motion. Never truly ending. Just changing. Evolving. Taking on new meaning.
I want to labor for the things I love. Family. Passion. Coffee. I feel like I spend so much time toiling away for someone else’s goals and dreams. Maybe it’s the balance of all those years I selfishly spent rowing and living off my parents and odd jobs and the kindness of good friends.
That can’t have been the only time in my life I knew what I wanted so definitively.
Whatever you’re laboring for I hope it lights you up. And you celebrate it tomorrow and every day.
