The other day I read a tweet by Michelle Nelson-Schmidt. It said, “What we do in this life, all of it, is as important as curing cancer.” Michelle is a children’s book author and illustrator. Her main point was if what you are doing matters to you, it matters. It matters a lot. It matters a whole lot!

HeartWorkI’ve met a lot of people in life who are almost ashamed of  their job, their career, and the role they play in the everyday work-world. They apologetically say, “It’s not like what I do is curing cancer.” They basically are saying it doesn’t matter much. It’s not that important. It doesn’t make any difference or impact. It pales in comparison to the work of others. And, frankly, I think that kind of attitude leads to purposeless, unfocused, mediocre, sloppy and sad living.

HeartWhether you are a chef, cop, clerk, carpenter, cable splicer, counselor, cantor, carpet cleaner, chiropractor or casket maker, what you do matters. Do not think your dream or passion is too small or mundane. We all have something to share. We all have gifts and talents. We all have something we are really passionate about. Discover it. Do it. When you are living out your dream, everyone around you will be blessed and encouraged.

An old adage says “If you love what you do, you don’t work a day in your life.”  That’s true. It’s absolutely true. I know from experience. And, the best way to describe hard work when you love it, is Heart Work. That’s it. Heart work. It’s work that comes from the heart. You love it so much you would do it for free if you could somehow pay your bills another way.

What you do in this life matters. And your passionate heart work will matter to others in ways you cannot begin to imagine. Now go find your heart work.


QUESTION: What is your heart work? Please share it with the rest of us. Thanks!


3 responses to Heart Work

  1. Pingback: Labor Day – A Celebration of Work | DENNIS GINGERICH

Discover more from DENNIS GINGERICH

Subscribe now to keep reading and get access to the full archive.

Continue reading