My cousin Debbie is a baker. It’s in her blood, and in her wisdom she pronounces, “Not everyone can say they look forward to getting up every morning and going to work. I LOVE my job.”    

My son, Shaun, is a teacher. He lives and breathes teaching. Every moment is seen through the lens of educator and everyday his work is rewarding, even when it’s difficult.

Venerable Pierre Toussaint, a Catholic slave, was a hair dresser. His gift for this work not only earned him considerable wealth but enabled him to touch the lives of a arge number of people as he lived the Gospel teachings of charity and love.

I am a writer. But until recently, at the ripe old age of (sorry, the signal’s breaking up) and having written for the better part of my life, the most I would say is that I love to write. Months ago, if you asked me what I do, I would have said, “I work as an editor for an international faith based organization.” A few years ago, I would have answered as an administrator and religious educator for a Catholic diocese.

But today, having broken out of the cocoon, I can admit what I have known on some level since I was four. I am a writer.

Being a writer – or a baker or a teacher or hair dresser – is not all we are, but it is the unique work through which the eternal self blossoms to fullness and lives as a child of God. What an amazing garden of gifts God has cultivated in the human spirit!

(The image used is at www.inspirationline.com/EZINE/31MAR2008.htm)