I have always detested this holiday we call Labor Day, not because I do not appreciate people who work hard to make their own living worthy and helpful for all of us, but because of a hymn!
“Come Labor On” # 541 in the 1982 Hymnal, The tune name is Ora Labora, written no less by a woman, Jane Laurie Borthwick (1813-1897) in 1859. Another woman, Mary Jo Latham, wrote the laborious lyrics. “Come labor on. Who dares stand idle while all around waves the golden grain, and the Master (boss) nags: “Go work today. . .”
It is a painful text for women who lose their lives and/or their infants when birthing, or for those who for whatever reasons bear no children. It is a horrifying text in times of job shortages and rampant unemployment —not to mention the slavedriver portrait of Divinity. Are you inspired?
Besides, who claims to know exactly what the divine will is? There is only one biblically-recorded good outcome of all this forced laboring, and that is in the Book of Ruth, because she, a starving abandoned widow, crawls along the edges of the field and gets to gather up the leftover pickings at the side of the path and thus not starve! Okay YHWH (Yahweh) thanks!
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We live in a residential retirement community—aging as we go. It is not difficult to contact the village office and request some help even to hang a heavy-framed picture. You used to do all this stuff, which in this house meant get my husband to do stuff, but do NOT risk it. Ladders are no longer friendly; neither are hammers. The expression “all thumbs” is serious!!
Aging in place is one thing, but to try to do it “independently” is quite another. Today I am grateful we have a very good maintenance team, a very good spouse who is not too proud to admit he’s too old, and a balanced spirituality that steadies my heart.