I worked for a painter who went to college for teaching, but got tired of the politics and short pay. He was a terrific man with a sharp mind and warm humor. I met a loader operator who had a full ride scholarship to a tech school, but declined it because he figured that rather than take all that time in a classroom, he would just read the books the teachers wrote (or the books that they read themselves)! Yeah, and he was actually reading these books, too. I worked with welders who understood Geometry and Trigonometry far better than, I suspect, some of the teachers that I had. I could go on and on, but I think that you get a glimpse...
None of these guys were miserable or unhappy in their work. That is not to say everyday was a celebration (it is a job, after all), but these were not galley slaves resigned to empty lives. To be frank, these guys seemed to have lives full of joy that I did not usually see mirrored in those who had the "white collar" jobs. They enjoyed the great outdoors, ate food that their own hands may have killed and butchered, sometimes worked right alongside their own sons, bragged about grandkids, watched over their elderly parents, etc, etc. Now, this is not saying that they were all of noble blood (jerks and dogs reside in every tier of society), but many lived what I might call "rich lives."
Maybe the most disarming of all, most of these men had a common-sense, clear-thinking way of seeing life that just cut right through the usual classroom theorizing. They had been raised on the meat and potatoes of Integrity, Work Ethic, and Family. They found the classroom (and the educational establishment), with its' abstract discussions and office-bound lifestyles, restricting and less than satisfying. What I had assumed was inability was actually a self-realization and wisdom that I myself did not possess...
Another discovery that I made was the truly profound joy of working with my hands (or maybe producing tangible results might be another way to say it). I was used to making calculations or writing a paper, and while these things served their purpose, it was nothing like solving real world problems and actually producing a day's work. It was mentally invigorating, AND physically exhausting. It was so... satisfying.
So what was I to say? How could I reconcile what I was seeing and feeling with that solemn charge so long ago? You know, that whole get a "good" job and "be somebody" thing we talked about back in part one. What did/does that really, actually mean anymore? As I look at my own rapidly growing son, what would I encourage him to do with his life? I think that the answer lies in my perceptions of worship, servanthood, vocation, and God as my Creator.
The Conclusion is next...
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