Labor Day

If I were to be entirely honest, I would have to admit that there are few mornings that I want nothing more than to awaken, dress and leave for work. No, I'd always rather sip my coffee in my quiet home. Watch the light change in the rooms as soft dawn becomes bright noon becomes sunny midday becomes gentle dusk. That's what I want to do every day. I want to put a load of laundry in or start a pot of soup simmering. I want to stay in my pajamas until Regis and Kelly finish that chit chat part of the show.
I don't want to walk past my dewy yard to my truck and drive away. I don't want to heat it up to melt off the ice and drive away. I don't want to wear my sunglasses against the summer brightness as I head east and I don't want to wear them against the snow glare. I don't want to turn off my alarm and realize I am on a schedule as soon as it sounds.
But today I must say more about my ringing alarm than "oh no." I am grateful today that there is a reason to set my alarm. I have a job. I want to state this to myself for those mornings when my momentary dread lingers a moment too long. I am healthy in body and mind and have been given opportunities to go to school and choose my profession. I've been blessed with a job that pays enough to write a check for the mortgage on this home that I don't want to leave in the mornings. I am graced with work that feels worthwhile, important and fulfilling. I walk into a workplace where I am greeted with smiles and laughter.
There is no excuse for anyone who awakens to an alarm clock for work to complain. Shame on me, even though my complaints are (usually) silent and (almost always) fleeting.
I am sorry Lord, for sometimes resenting the gift of work. I know it is not a right or a burden; it is a privilege.
It is an honor for which I am grateful.
Let the alarm clock ring.

Small grace: Sunshine!