6-14-07 From Kevin:
Maybe it's just me, but I can let work become my primary focus. And I come by it honestly, as I believe God called me to 'till the soil' and provide for my family. And I have problems with guys who shirk this responsibility. My wife could probably out-earn me in the marketplace for a good number of viable reasons, and there is much of 'motherhood' that is not her cup of tea. However, we feel the roles are as basic as...the baby grows in her and she has breasts to feed it. I just can't do that. So I'm out working. Pretty basic.
Next, I'm very competitive and I have an ego that is...not small. So in my work, I want to kick butt and be noticed for it! It's not my sole motivation, or even main one, but it exists. Everyone gives me pats on the back for success at work. If I'm not making decent money, driving a decent car and living in a decent house...folks don't have as much respect for me. Sad as it is...it's true. We all know it.
Third for me, is I actually like most of the work I do. I'm primarily doing what I was wired for...writing and creating. Much of it I would do even if I didn't need the money.
So combine all that and there is a lot of momentum to make work my number one focus. Everyone will support me in it. I can even get my family used to me not being at home in the morning, showing up late in the evening (maybe even with a gift or two that I've purchased with my hard earned money!). We do a cool vacation or two here and there, occasionally we do a fun outing on a weekend. I spring for a pool or PlayStation here and there and all is kosher.
But wait. If I step outside of my home for an aerial view of my life...I notice something. As the sun rises, I leave. Later, my wife rises. She has some coffee, does some tidying...then the kids awake. She gets morning hugs and they enjoy breakfast together. The day continues to unfold as they do chores, have meals, play, maybe enjoy an outing or two. The baby crawls for the first time to the delight of everyone! My boy has works through an altercation with a neighbor kid that shapes his life-view. My wife spends time nurturing a relationship with a friend.
Finally, after dark I return. We share a quick dinner where I hear a couple tidbits from the day and I try to be upbeat, though I'm pretty tired. Kids go to bed, my wife has a phone call from a family member. I'm about braindead and pass an hour watching a couple sitcoms that at least give me some levity for the day while I munch on a bag of chips and try to ignore my growing belly.
What the heck is this? I'm a stinkin' pack mule! (isn't there another 3-letter word for mule??) Day in and day out, just existing to bring home a check! This isn't quite what I had planned. Life is happening in my nice home, primarily without me. I could be replaced by a million other guys who do the same thing. Good grief, I could be replaced by my life insurance policy! And on that...all that I do at my work...could be replaced. If I vanished, the world wouldn't skip a beat. Somebody else would just pick up where I left off, no problem.
When my wife and I met, I was an athlete. I had a vibrant social life with people who truly cared about me. I had big dreams, big goals. I envisioned an exciting journey with my beauty by my side and the 'fruit of my loins' who I was a hero to! I wanted to matter.
Scrap this. I want to be a Stallion in a herd of wild mustangs! Providing and protecting my family...for sure. I was bred for that. But also running in my glory with them in tow. Taking them to new and exciting places and glowing in their adoration. Loving them, caring for them, leading them to greater and greater heights. And like a Stallion, I sure as crap don't need fancy accoutrements to achieve this. Just me and a place to call home.
From now on, my work will not be my priority or identity. It will simply provide the necessities of food and shelter so I can tend to more important, eternal matters. I will not look to anyone outside of my family to tell me who I am. My family's health, as well as my own overall health, will testify to people of who I am. If they aren't impressed by that...who needs them. Pats on the back for work achievements or 'stuff' I own will cause me concern, as I realize the danger that is for me.
Life isn't going to continue happening without me. I'm back, and puttin' my bridle up for sale on eBay for some poor pack mule, right away...