On standing. . .
My job
requires a lot of standing. Dressed in a suit and tie, I stand in the back, by
the doors, or in the foyer, where I can give assistance if needed. Sometimes, I
stand off to the side while the services are going on. At these times, I feel
as I am on sentry duty, as if in the military. I pretend that my dark suit, is
a military dress uniform. I have a solemn duty: to stand guard and to honor.
Generally, I
do not mind. However, I am not as disciplined as the military. I cannot stand
still like a statue for long periods of time. My mind and body wanders.
I begin to
think about people who do a lot of standing for their work. There seems to be a
division between those whose work requires much standing, and those whose work
requires much less. Who then are the “standers”?
At the top
of this list are those in the military, especially those in sentry posts who I
pretend that I am emulating. Other “standers” are teachers and coaches, nurses
and doctors, farmers, security guards, factory workers and salespeople
including cashiers.
What do they
have in common?
They all are
in positions of service. Regardless of whether the job is directly involved
with caring for people such as nurses and teachers, or more indirectly such as
salespeople, cashiers and farmers, their work requires movement and closeness. Physical strain is an everyday occurrence.
Most of the
“standers” are not thinkers; they are doers. They do not sit behind a desk, or
in front of a computer, but rather are out and about doing their jobs. Jobs
that are to be done in all types of conditions, and too often without thanks,
for these are the overlooked positions. Not glamorous out of the lime-light,
those who stand provide the basic services and tasks that are needed.
Standing
requires being present. As kids we were
taught to stand at attention. You cannot “phone it in"; you actually have to be
there, and do the task.
I am also
reminded that many people cannot stand. Their health will not allow it. I think
that most people who are confined to a bed or a wheelchair, who are racked by
arthritis or Parkinson’s would like to be able to stand. Perhaps I should see
it as a blessing: a small sign that I am healthy.
It is in
little things that I find understanding. Standing is often overlooked. It is a little
thing, yet it means a lot. It means that I am present, and that I am healthy.
Next time our legs get sore and we become restless, we need to remember that
standing is a good thing . . . but then, so is sitting, especially after a long
day of standing. That is a gift in itself!
