It's cool that even in 2014, business cards are still useful. We can find out a lot about someone- their name, what they do, how to contact them- on a piece of scrap paper about half the size of a baseball card. They're given out quickly after we meet someone we think is worth knowing or keeping touch with. In an age where most information is obtained digitally, business cards have refused to die with the rest of hard copy. They're amazing- a gateway to our future, that gives us info on the present, all on a medium that speaks to the past.
That last paragraph is literary exaggeration. Business cards don't really tell us much at all. They're cliff notes to our jobs which, despite cultural obsession with finding the "right" one, aren't even meant to tell our entire story. At worst, jobs merely provide money. At best, they are a tool for us to accomplish what we're really here for- hammers used to build the structures that house relationships that make life worth going through. No matter the salary, location or function, even a good job can't show someone who you truly are.
I prayed for understanding of this abstract idea, and found that my father embodies it well. My dad invented "life hacks" before I ever saw a single internet meme. When I didn't have access to university counseling services, he was the best confidant in town- available 24/7 and ready to listen to incessant complaining for forever. The man who always stood tall as guardian of his household was also an expert peacemaker, quelling even the worst of battles I had with my sister- the greatest rival I'll ever know. When I thought 18 years of this had bled him dry of every nurturing bone in his body, I'd come home for holiday breaks to see my dad do these same things for my younger cousins. The man was helping out other people's kids, too! Amazing. And none of it had anything to do with his job.
Here's one of the best lessons my dad has taught me: the person you are is not directly tied to where you work. Sure, I think his best character traits are appreciated by a lot of people he works with: he's resourceful, caring, and helps those in need. But that's just who he is, and it's who he would be no matter what he did for a living. His legacy isn't based on career accomplishments, but what he's done to help others.
This isn't meant as an indictment against ambition. This is a warning against finding your whole identity in a job. Until recently, I tried to grade my life based on where my talents placed me professionally. It's a selfish way of thinking that's, ironically, self-destructive. Even if you reach the pinnacle of your professional goals, there's always difficult co-workers, a lack of appreciation and the potential for burnout that come along with having any job (just ask every living U.S. President). Our identities rest in what we can do relationally: giving, encouraging, teaching, serving, etc. Jobs provide places where we can go to share those gifts and an audience to share them with. They are only a part of our life story; an epic with an infinite word count that a business card could never contain.
