Working it out

I had the most interesting conversation with my middle child, JJ, yesterday. The business, where I ineptly work part-time, is owned by the parents of one of his best friends, Corey. As a matter of fact, he and Corey have played baseball together, gone to school together and hung out all summer together for a couple of years. Both boys are great kids and great friends.

JJ asked me yesterday morning, “Are you going to keep working there?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I like it.”

“It’s kind of weird though, Mom.”

“Weird how?” I asked.

“Well, it’s hard to explain at school that you work for Corey’s parents,” he admitted.

“Why is it hard?” I waited.

“Well, you used to be a pastor and then I told people you were becoming a writer.” Now he waited.

I considered how to answer my son. My first impulse was to say something like, “I am becoming a writer, it’s just a long process…” or something in that defensive vein. But then I thought better of it.

“Are you embarrassed because Mommy works for Corey’s parents?” I finally said.

“Not embarrassed exactly,” he looked away. “I just don’t know what to tell people.”

“I think it’s fine to tell people that I work for Corey’s parents,” I kept packing his lunch and let that sink in.

“What do you do there? Just answer the phone?” he looked at me again.

“Yes, I answer the phone but, you know what? If that was the only thing I did all day, it would be okay. I’m a good phone answerer,” I smiled at him, “and my value is not wrapped up in what I do or do not do. I started working there to provide us with more income while Daddy gets launched in his new job. But you know what? I like it. It’s fun.”

JJ thought about this for minute as he ate his eggs. He took a bite of his toast and asked with his mouth full, “You’re not going to give up being a writer, are you?”

“Nah, but being a writer is no more important than being a phone answerer. It’s great when people get to do things they like, and I happen to like both, but neither one defines me.” I pondered how to explain being defined by something as I searched my brain for any illustration that didn’t involve the dictionary.

“What does define you?” JJ questioned me and I learned he was smarter than I realized.

I sat down across from him.

“Being your mom and being Daddy’s wife are both a big part of who I am. I am a daughter and sister and friend. But the most important thing in my whole life is being a Christian.”

He kept chewing. “So, God defines you?”

“Yeah,” I was looking at genius, “God defines me.” I waited for any questions that were forthcoming, totally immersed in the moment we were having.

“Mom?” JJ asked.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Do we have any jelly besides grape?”