By Ron Hickerson
I've never had career aspirations – I've just never thought about it.
I don't remember having an answer when adults asked me, "What do you
want to be when you grow up?" Careers are tricky things that can swallow you
up if you're not careful, like a sand trap I'd rather steer clear of instead
of trying to navigate slowly, like the sandwalkers of Arrakis.
The closest I came was the adolescence I courted becoming a
minister. Singing songs of how I belong to a generation that
seeks God’s face, I pictured excitement and adventure at every corner,
bringing about the kingdom of heaven – instead, burnout answered the call.
Now, I shrug my shoulders when people ask about my dream job – if such a
thing exists. Sure, as much as I wish I could work in the factory for
50 years, get my gold watch, and retire, I don't think Irenaeus
would be impressed much. But a few nights ago, I made spaghetti for a small
gathering of friends who came to my house for refuge and rest, and we shared
noodles, sauce, life, and laughter as we broke garlic bread and munched biscotti.
It made my soul sing, "This is what life is for!" My greatest work is prepping
for the feast to come. Practicing eternity in smiles and crow's feet.
Such duties are for an economy that transcends empire, paychecks,
vacation days, and health insurance. The clock winds down toward punch-in time.
Ron Hickerson helps college students navigate the murky waters of academia. When he's not advising, you can find him wandering the campus, looking for the oldest trees or writing at his desk. His work has been published in the Clayjar Review.
Ron's other work on Foreshadow:
Resistance (Poetry, October 2022)
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