Working With Dignity

My friend and I caught up on the phone.
We were talking about anything and everything.
With the holidays coming up, we talked about our family plans.
This time of year gets wonderfully busy.

Much like the mother/daughter day that I plan each year, my friend has family plans as well.
Her plans will include extended family, too.
She told me about one thing they are planning.
Whoever is able to join them will come.

She told me how they are planning a trip into the city to see all the Christmas sights.
As she talked, I remembered.
I used to do some of the same things when I was a girl.
Since my friend’s father worked in the city, she has memories of that as a girl as well.

I remember taking the train into the city with my mother.
We would meet my aunt who worked near City Hall.
We would start at the store with the large pipe organ.
The organ played Christmas music at certain times during the day.

As a little girl, I held my mother’s hand tightly because of the crowds.
I would look up and see the lights as the organ music played.
The music filled the large space.
For me, those days in the city were the beginning of the Christmas season.

We would walk through the Dickens Village.
I looked at each figure dressed in old fashioned clothes.
I wanted to jump into the scene and be a part of it on so many occasions.
There would always be a visit to Santa as well.

Just hearing my friend talk about going into the city brought all those memories back.
Every time I watch the original Miracle on 34th Street, I walk back in time.
The store in that movie is reminiscent of the stores I used to go to when I was a girl.
There were no malls then; there were only department stores with many floors.

I asked my friend if she remembered the elevator man.
Since our birthdays are only a week apart, she knew what I was talking about.
I remember the man in the elevator, dressed in his dark suit.
When you entered the elevator, he asked what floor you wanted.

With his gloved hand, he would close the metal gate first.
Then he would push the correct number for the floor you desired.
I remember the elevator man talking to me and my mother.
I remember that he liked my Mary Jane shoes.

When we reached the floor, the elevator door would open.
Then the elevator man opened the interior metal gate so that we could leave the elevator.
I remember his spotless white gloves.
I remember his kind smile.

Besides the elevator man, I remember the woman who worked in the bathroom.
The bathrooms in the department stores were quite large.
There was an outer area that had a circular chair, which resembled a doughnut.
I actually saw the same circular chair when I was at a bridal boutique with my daughter-in-love.

Women would freshen up, as they said.
They would sit on the circular chair or at the small dressing table to touch up their makeup.
I would watch the woman who worked as the bathroom attendant.
She wore a clean pink uniform and black oxford shoes.

She handed fresh hand towels to each woman.
She went to the sink area and dried it with a towel she had nearby.
She made sure there were no splatters on the mirrors.
She was kind and pleasant to everyone.

The woman took such pride in her work.
The bathroom was spotless.
I remember asking my mother if she thought the woman liked to work in the bathroom.
Without answering, my mother said that the important thing is that she does her job well.

If a man is called to be a street sweeper, he should sweep streets even as a Michelangelo painted, or Beethoven composed music or Shakespeare wrote poetry. He should sweep streets so well that all the hosts of heaven and earth will pause to say, “Here lived a great street sweeper who did his job well.”  No work is insignificant. All labor that uplifts humanity has dignity and importance and should be undertaken with painstaking excellence.
(Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.)

Dignity.
I did not know it at the time but that was what I saw in the man and the woman.
Both the elevator man and the bathroom attendant took pride in their work.
It may have seemed insignificant to some but their job touched so many people.

Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving. (Colossians 3:23,24)

The age of entitlement has drastically affected the concept of a job well done.
Entry level positions are fine if they come with perks.
There is a constant looking over the shoulder for something better.
Paying your dues as you grow, and learn, and move ahead can be painstakingly slow.

There is dignity in each stage of work.
There is pride in a job well done.
Even if no one notices, Jesus does.
It is in Him we live and move and have our being. (Acts 17:28)

I know I thanked the elevator man; I remember he shook my hand.
I know I thanked the bathroom attendant when she handed me a fresh hand towel.
Each had a dignified air about them.
Each did their job well.

All these years later, I remember.