I feel like I am being drawn to write this blog post. Pulled in it’s direction like a magnet. As if this week the universe has been screaming at me to write this…
For the last 10 years of my life I have been an Occupational Therapist. My value was obvious when I went to work each day. I worked with patients who were at a low point in their lives. They were sick, tired, discouraged. I helped them regain strength, relearn how to care for themselves and return home. Or, I did the best that I could to make them comfortable, helped them wash their hair, brush their teeth, and held their hand…whatever I could do to make their last days as comfortable and positive as I could in my limited time with them.
Now when I go to work my value is less obvious. My job is lighter. It’s creative. I spend time with people during their happiest moments. Their wedding day. The birth of their children. We play on the beach and I capture Dad’s laughing and playing with their children. I capture moms in a moment in time with their little ones, while the sun is in that perfect spot, casting a warm glow around them. It’s fun and it feeds my soul, but it’s not helping people get well, go home, or find comfort in their final days.
And then an e-mail arrives that asks something to the effect of “We lost a close family friend this week. There is a beautiful picture from our wedding that I remember seeing. Do you still have it?” We find the picture and the image of that moment in time is the most sweet treasure.
The next day as I am going through photos I find an image of a friends grandmother who has passed away. I send it to her and the image is so loved.
Today while scrolling through my news feed I see a wedding picture that we took and the comments state how happy they are that they have this beautiful photo to remember this moment forever.
And my mind goes to the handsome picture of my own grandfather that we used for his obituary, and that my family wanted about a hundred copies of it. I think of the most treasured image of Tim’s mom that was taken at our own wedding. I think of the last healthy photo that we have of Tim’s Dad while he was snuggling with our newborn daughter. I contemplate the fact that if my home was on fire that I would grab my wedding albums and pictures of our children on the way out of the house.
And, I realize that there is still a lot of value in what I do.