Years ago, while visiting my in-laws in Belgium, my father-in-law walked my husband and me a few doors down to meet a neighbor. My husband shook hands with the man, and they exchanged pleasantries. As my husband introduced me, I smiled, nodded, and shook hands; my French isn’t great, however, so I didn’t enter the conversation.
Even with my limited language skills, I could tell after a minute or two that my husband and the neighbor said nothing about their work. So I quietly and casually asked my father-in-law in English, “What does he do?”
My father-in-law paused. Then he whispered to me in English, “In America, one of the first questions people ask each other when they meet is ‘What do you do for a living?’ But here in Belgium, people don’t ask that.”
“Why not?”
He thought for a minute. “Unemployment is high in Belgium, so they must want to avoid putting someone in the position of admitting they aren’t working.”
Suddenly, I worried that my husband, steeped in American culture for most of his adult life, would slip up and ask what the man does. Fortunately, he kept to topics such as the weather and our travels. But I’ve never forgotten my father-in-law’s observation. Even to this day, here in the United States, I hesitate asking people that question. After all, I myself struggle to answer it simply or confidently. Why would I force someone else to?
When waiting to board a plane a week or so ago, I stood behind a young woman who turned and grinned at me. “I should have stayed in my chair a little longer,” she observed, nodding at the long line ahead of us. “I had plenty of time.”
“Me, too.” I replied. “Boarding was just as backed up on my last flight.”
Our interaction shifted to the then-recent election. She said her friends were watching throughout the day as results rolled in, but she couldn’t because she was so busy. “I didn’t have time to turn on a TV,” she exclaimed. “I was working!”
Curious, I decided to throw caution to the wind. I asked her the question: “So, what work kept you from watching? What…do you do?”
“Oh, I’m a lawyer.” For some reason, I didn’t anticipate what would naturally follow. “So, how about you?” she asked. “What do you do?”
I hemmed, I hawed. My first thought, especially given her impressive career, was to admit that I don’t work—at least not in the way she thinks of it. Then I wondered if I should mention home education or the composition class that I teach once a week. I thought about borrowing Kathy Peel’s term and calling myself a “Family Manager.” Finally, because I was on my way to meet up with The High Calling editorial team, I blurted out two of my many roles: “I’m a writer and editor.”
She asked what I write, but before I could elaborate, we were funneled single-file into the narrow airplane aisle. Our conversation abruptly ended as she slid into her seat.
After inching past a few more rows, I shoved my backpack into an overhead bin and plopped into 23A, considering my “work” in more detail.
I’m a writer, yes. And an editor. But most of my daily life focuses on domestic tasks and family needs. I’ve stayed home to care for my children, planning and preparing meals, educating them, organizing birthday parties and vacations, hosting Thanksgiving and counting down to Christmas, doing the dishes, cleaning the bathrooms and buying toilet paper again and again and again.
Above the clouds, soaring toward an editorial retreat, I tried to imagine life as a full-time editor. I dreamed of an office with a door that shuts, a desk, a rolling chair, and a dog-eared copy of The Chicago Manual of Style readily accessible on a nearby shelf. What would it feel like to work all day long with words, with authors, with people who love stories and ideas? My part-part-time work with The High Calling provides a glimpse. I think I’d like it.
But reality is that for 18 years I’ve scrunched my writing and editorial tasks into any little gap I can find in my days, and the combination of it all—the school lessons, dishes, parties, toilet paper and emails about upcoming “Family” articles—all of that together adds up to “what I do.”
Indeed, I flew home to dirty dishes, misplaced study guides, and the sudden realization that Thanksgiving was a week-and-a-half away. After a few days, I managed to release career envy and wistful canyon memories, focusing once more on life right here on our suburban cul-de-sac.
I knew I was back in stride when one day this past week, I proctored a test, accompanied my daughter to physical therapy, contacted two authors about articles for The High Calling, fixed lunch, cleaned up from lunch, folded a load of laundry, mediated a sibling dispute, and then drove to Kroger to buy a turkey, toothpaste, and toilet paper.
Yes, I thought, as I heaved the turkey into the freezer. This humble work is what I do…and it is good.
When you shared this with us at Laity Lodge, you had me thinking about how I’d answer that question about what I do. I still don’t know. But it made me start ranking my responsibilities, and right there at the top is the work I do for my family. The cooking and cleaning out bathtubs and buying toilet paper. I love the other work I get to do, but I still value the work of family the most. Thank you for nudging me to realize that.
I liked what Dan pointed out–that someone still has to keep the home fires burning, whether they work elsewhere during the day or not. That work is good work, to be honored…even if it is hard to explain. 🙂
This is so my life! Thank you for writing it so eloquently. I do answer that blazing question with a confident “Oh, I’m a writer and a freelance editor.” Impressed looks come in response and I always feel like a fake. Yes, I am a writer and a freelance editor, but most of my days I am just a stay-at-home mom trying to juggle all the parts of my life into a form of harmony. While it may not sound impressive, it is what I have chosen to do, what I feel confident God has called me to at this time and this moment in my life. For that I’ll not apologize.
Glad to know I’m not alone, Tanya. That feeling like a fake was what I felt when I talked with the lawyer. I actually felt red-faced fake, like I had to then explain and apologize and qualify my statement.
And, like you, I am sure this is where I’ve needed to be and what I’ve needed to do.
In this season of my life, given that I live in a community of trailing ex-pat spouses, this question doesn’t come up too often. All of us stay home, otherwise our families would fall apart in the wake of executive husbands who travel for a living! Just as well, I’m not quite brave enough to say “writer” yet. But you, Ann, of course you are a writer, an editor, a teacher, a (family) manager extraordinaire! I’ve never thought of you any other way:)
Oh, my, you are too kind, Kimberly!! Thank you for your encouragement. It means so much.
As for your situation…that makes sense, that all the ex-pats understand and respect your shared stay-home status. Do you encounter the question when you come to the States for a visit?
Regarding your own “writer” role, let me ask this: do you call yourself a runner? I think runners experience this same dilemma–when does a recreational jogger cross over into “runner” status? Some would say the jogger could legitimately call herself that after finishing her first race; others would say whenever she starts to think of herself as a runner.
Similarly, when does a blogger who writes feel she can call herself a writer? I think we could create artificial “rules,” but in the end the writer is a writer when she begins to view herself as such. And I definitely view you as a writer. For heaven’s sake, you’re a published writer whose work is sought after over at The High Calling. Take that and run with it!
Thank you so much for the encouragement, Ann:) I’ve called myself a runner for years, long before I signed up for my first race. I suppose it’s time I embrace the writer in me as well. I feel like one in my heart, but it takes a lot of courage for the words to make it to my lips. I’ll have a lot more practice when we move back to the US next summer!
So inspired again and again by your thoughts here…
I once heard of the term “Domestic Engineer”, as a proper PC title for those of us who manage families and so much more. Sounds important! And we ARE. We matter!
As for claiming the writer title, I am just now beginning to allow myself to call myself a writer. I am privileged to do so. It is the next step on my journey, and I’ve had to grow the ability to claim what I hope to become and what I practice, even though I am not published yet. (and actually have not submitted anything…)
Years ago before family, I had an office and desk and a key to that office. When I left that work (as a psychotherapist), to start a family, I felt a loss of identity. Who am I without an office and desk and clients and a key to call my own? Somehow these felt essential for me. I struggled for years, finding out who I was without all that. Isn’t being a child of the Father enough?
Along came another mentor, who helped me realize that for this season my family is my greatest investment. My house may be cluttered, but my family knows I love them.
Excellent thoughts, Diana. Thank you for sharing your story!
I love this story. I had the same reaction Deidra did…even though I have a day job, I’m only parttimeand that always has me apologizing for what I do. I wonder if I’ll ever get to a place where I feel “enough” and claim all these roles I play?
Happy Thanksgiving, my friend.
I wonder how many people do struggle with this? I mean, you can say you’re a psychiatrist, and that doesn’t feel like enough? Wow.
Great post, Ann! I haven’t commented on here in a while (a year or more?!), but I do get your emails regularly and always enjoy reading your posts. I just recently read another blogpost on this topic (at http://www.lightenough.wordpress.com). In her post, she referenced an article from Relevant (http://www.relevantmagazine.com/life/career-money/question-we-should-never-let-make-or-break-us) on this topic as well (this is worth reading..as is the other one!). And then I read yours! I occasionally find myself asking others that very question, and then wodering why I did! It immediately puts people in a box…or easily makes them (or me!) feel uncomfortable!
As a stay-at-home-mom who likes to write and who use to have a “real job,” I can so resonate! I often find myself saying what I use to do, as if that adds substance to who I am now! I’ve worked hard to stay away from that, and focus on sharing what I enjoy and learning about what others enjoy. That may or may not include their job title and/or job description. And even when I tell people that I love to write, I still feel uncomfortable because I have very little to show for it (I don’t get paid, I’m not published…).
A great post on a good thought-provoking topic that resonates with many! Thank you!
It’s so great to hear from you, and I’m delighted to know that you have been keeping up with this crazy little blog!
I had no idea so many of us struggle with this question of what we do–I’m going to click through and visit these links you’ve offered.
Hi Ann, I loved your story and it triggered a blog post of What do I do? or a better question: Who am I?
http://hazel-moon-blog.blogspot.com/2012/11/what-do-i-do.html
Thank you for sharing your link, Hazel. I loved reading about your long journey of various jobs!
Nicely stated and reported. I took special note of your experience in Belgium, when your father-in-law told you to avoid the question of “What work do you do?” because of the many people who then had no jobs.
Sounds like the situation many people in America face today – either no job, or a job that does not pay much and has no social status. In America today, when one looks at the reports in all the media, one is prompted to conclude that people with jobs which have high pay, high status, high dividends, big houses, big cars, lots of entrepreneurial independence, etc, et al. are the only people who count. Work in a factory, a fast food restaurant, a garbage truck, a janitorial service, a car repair shop, etc. just does not count.
What do we think of work and the status that attaches to particular jobs? What do ee consider to be truly important? How do we care for others in our conversations with them so that we do not embarrass them, or humiliate then in any way?
There are a lot of people, maybe most people, who can say, “This humble work is what I do…” May we be ready to say in response, “……and it is good.”
It’s a big question that I assume sociologists have had a hey-day studying.
Thank you for your thoughtful reply and your kindness in writing. I appreciate all that you said.