Role Call

I walked in the door, wind-blown and still in work mode…

“Hi I’m Danielle”

“And?”

((My eyes darted around to the shiny new sign listing the 12 steps, noting the first as admitting))

“and I’m a workaholic?”

“Hi Danielle, have a seat with the rest of the group.”

“Oh no, I’ll stand, in fact I’ll just work while you guys have the meeting, if that’s ok.”

((Blank stares from the other W.A. members))

“Ma’am, here at workaholics anonymous, we encourage you to have a seat on the big comfy couch for each session, take your shoes off, enjoy the time given to you”

“But I’ve never been one to rest, miss. All I know is working, committing, volunteering, saying yes to all the things, all at once.”

((One woman actually rolled her eyes as if you say “ya heard that one before”))

“Yes, we are aware, and that is why you are here. Please just have a seat”

Reluctantly, I sat down. I noticed how achy my body was. The softness of the couch enveloped my sore legs like a hug. Next thing I knew, someone had pulled up a table with nourishing food and a cup of hot tea.

“What’s all this?” I asked

“Here at W.A., we encourage our members to eat well and hydrate themselves.”

“Oh I haven’t done that since.. I don’t know when”

The meeting continued and I realized how hungry I’d been. Apparently that breakfast bar and chai latte I inhaled at 5am while walking around doing two hundred other things had worn off long ago. My stomach all but cheered in relief and I felt full, satisfied.

“Now for the next portion of the meeting, I’d like to hear from our ex-workaholic panel.”

“Marion, why don’t you tell the group a bit of your story.”

Marion replied “Well, it’s been two years since I drastically overhauled my choices. I took a sort of ‘Role Call’ and listed out what my God-given duties actually were. I didn’t take into account what the world had been screaming at me since childhood. I didn’t listen to the other women who were in the same boat as I was. I took my time, to lay out the roles I long to play, not the ones I always have fulfilled. That’s when I realized I’d been working my life away while meaningful opportunities passed me by. My children, my strong marriage, the outdoors, homeschooling, etc.”

My heart was racing, I wanted to leave. But at this point I’d found I’d kicked my shoes off and my feet were crossed, and covered with a cozy blanket. So I listened to the rest of the panel, all while feeling this stirring inside I couldn’t ignore.

“Does anyone want to share what this Role Call exercise has done for them?” the instructor asked.

I’m not one to be timid, ever… but I hesitated to share, as the butterflies in my belly were acting as though they wanted out so badly they’d break right through the skin.

“I’ll go,” I managed to sputter out, as I shifted my now-numb bottom around on that blue plush cushion.

“I’m Danielle, and I’m a workaholic. All I’ve ever known is work. Since I was young, I worked full time while going to school. I was always told to get a real job, do well in college, and life would then be grand.”

At this point I couldn’t help but notice I’d captured the attention of the rookies and the seasoned ex-workaholics. They were all looking at me, most with an all-knowing grin upon their friendly face. One woman on the newbie end had huge puddles of tears clinging to her bottom eyelids, just waiting for that next blink to discharge them into a free fall onto the couch. Another rookie with a small infant attached to her, leaked milk on one side of her shirt, blankly staring in my direction yet fiddling with her corporate name tag on the lanyard dangling from her neck. And the next woman I noticed was Marion. Her hair was beautiful yet natural, down and free to be tousled any way she chose. Her shoulders seemed relaxed and I subconsciously dropped my own. She smiled at me, her sun-kissed cheeks beaming all the way from her rocking chair, fixing her cotton dress as she crossed her bare feet. She brought both of her garden-dirt covered hands together and pointed them to me as if to encourage me to continue what I’d been saying.

“It was all a lie. Turns out folks, my Role is ‘Mom’. It always has been. I was born to be a wife and a mom, and a child of the Lord. And somehow along the way I’d been taught the complete opposite- as though somehow those roles weren’t good enough. As a child I longed to be a writer, to act in plays, share stories. And multiple times I’d been told that would never happen, I needed to get a real job, and make real money. So, I did. I listened to the world and all its lies. I worked every day, even the days I was in labor with my babies. On days I needed to be home with them, they were with someone else as I worked. It was my role, right? I was supposed to work just as my husband was and pay off the college debt, right? We needed two incomes to live, riggghhttt? I’d convinced myself my children were fine with someone else all day. And most of the time they were. But it took me until right now to realize I’d missed the role call completely. I didn’t even have time to respond ‘present’ to the Teacher because I’d been off creating my own life, aside from what He wanted for me.”

As I sat down, a few of the experienced W.A. moms offered their hands in mine, a hug, some tissues and knowing glances. I took a deep breath and continued.

“I missed their firsts. I was working while they learned most of what they know. And on my days off, I’d spend every second loving on them, reading to them, snuggling with them. And then in the evening after they’d gone to sleep and there was nothing left of me, I’d have to do dishes, prepare lunches, pump milk, prepare bottles. Then I’d lay in bed and battle to stay awake long enough to mutter a hello to my husband. Over time I’d started to spend those sweet days off volunteering (serving?) at a local church business building. And whatever infinitesimal moments were left, I’d spend online or on social media platforms helping others. So any free time I’d had was gone. I was maxed to the breaking point. And that is how I ended up here. I am so ready to fulfill the role God gave me, I’m ready to answer the call home”

The instructor sweetly turned her mouth upwards, grinning with her eyes just as the others vanished into thin air. It was just me sitting on that blue couch when she said “well done, you may wake up now.”

I sat straight up, gasping for air as the weight of reality crushed me. I was being paged to the operating room for a trauma. I looked at the clock. I’d only fallen asleep in that call room for eleven lousy minutes. Hardly sustainable but nothing coffee couldn’t fix. As I pulled my scrub cap on and rubbed my eyes, I couldn’t help but think of Marion. She looked so free, content even. I was envious of her soiled hands and bare feet as I gloved mine up after scratching at the itchy compression stockings I wore daily. By the time I’d walked into the OR, the baby in my belly had woken all the way up and was dancing to his own tune while I didn’t even have time to touch my hand to my very full abdomen. As I put the oxygen mask on the patient’s little face, thoughts of my own kids were pushed away and I went into work mode. Because that’s what we do right? We compartmentalize so we can carry on. And I did, for a couple more years even after that.

Until, in a very unfortunate yet absolutely wonderful turn of events, the Lord called me home for good. And now, I’ve joined the likes of Marion. My feet are bare, hands soiled, laps full. Sure it’s the hardest job I’ve ever had in my life, but I was here for the Role Call this time, and I shot my hand up like a kindergartner with the right answer.

Here! Present!!! Yes I’ll fill that Role now. Thank you Jesus for second chances.