It was one of those blistering days when the very breath you took made you think you were under water because the humidity was so intense. The sun was beating down on my overweight body and my lack of physical activity during the work week made my body ache more and more.

The work involved some heavy lifting and as the day progressed, each and every post got heavier and heavier. About mid-day, as I stopped to catch my breath and wipe away the sweat, I stood there and began to survey the scene. There were five or six young men in their early to late teens and they were steadily moving. Each had been appointed a job and they were hard at it. A post that was a struggle for me to move was more like a twig to them. The shoveling of dirt that caused me to pant was an easy task for each of them. After a moment of viewing their various activities, I was soon struck with the realization that life for me has begun another chapter.

I have and still do pride myself in that physical activity has always been a pleasure for me. Even though I gripe and complain about the weather, I still enjoy my time outside. My profession keeps me in the office all day, but as of late I have had several outside projects going and the work has been relaxing.

Even though I come in all tired, hot and sweaty, I still feel a sense of accomplishment with each task. I have learned, however, that physically, life has taught me to work smarter and not harder. As I watched these young men do their work, I evaluated their moves and calculated the process I would have taken with each task.

If they lifted a heavy post, I probably would have drug one end to the hole before lifting the other end into the hole. They simply picked the entire post up and carried it to the hole, heaving the thing in the air and dropping it into place. I would have used a sledge hammer or a pick to break or cut a root. They would simply grab the thing and twist it off.

A spool of wire would have been rolled into place with my foot across the ground, but they simply grabbed it and carried it into position. Each move was a battle in my mind between brains over brawn. My brawn has retreated and my brain has expanded.

I stood there in somewhat of a fog as I watched these “kids” (i.e. “little boys”) grow into fine young men and it has taken me a while to understand that they actually no longer need constant supervision and overseeing and they can actually think, work and sustain themselves with the task at hand. They have become men.

I was once again reminded of this memory just this morning as I walked into the kitchen area of our office and my son was there. He was standing near the water cooler and lifted a five gallon jug of water and placed it atop the former empty dispenser. Nobody asked him, he just did it. He has many responsibilities here in the office and while this was a very mundane job, he knew it needed to be done.

Over the last few years this once little boy has now been given various tasks within our company that are his to handle and he no longer needs the supervision of a parent. He has been grown up for several years, but it’s hard to let go. He is a married man with his own family and the tasks that were once done by yours truly are slowly being moved into his realm of responsibility. He is very capable and I am proud of him. Step by step, job by job, responsibility by responsibility, each of us moves things of this life to a younger generation.

Am I getting old? No way, but I will admit I have physically been forced to work smarter. I will admit that a hundred pound sack of feed that I used to so aptly carry two at a time, is now a challenge just to get fifty pounds in a wheelbarrow. (Besides, they don’t even make a hundred pound sack anymore.) I have learned the art of keeping a chair near my outside work area and sitting down for a while and resting. I have learned that the work I wanted to get done today can be completed tomorrow just as easily. I think they call it “stopping to smell the roses” and I for one am enjoying the possibilities of years to come.

Clifford

Comments (0)

Subscribe to this comment's feed