During my internship at the Outreach Community Center in college, my supervisor told me of a ritual he practiced while biking home from work. He would pass a certain tree on the route home where he figuratively left all the unfinished business of the day—the many cases of people who needed help paying rent, the intractable injustices of living off a minimum wage income in suburban America. These burdens would be there, the next morning, to pick up again. That tree was a physical transition point between his focus on work and his focus on his family at home.
Recently I’ve been longing for my own ritual to end the work day. I work in our home office, so there’s no commute to help me switch gears. I find myself leaving the desk but ruminating on some story idea or work-related issue long after, while I’m sitting at the kitchen table supposedly listening to my kids tell me about their day.
I need something concrete to usher my body and mind away from high-octane productivity into rest and relationship. So here is my Liturgy for the Work Day’s End. Maybe bits and pieces of it will be helpful for you.
Act I: Closing
Give Thanks for the Work Done
Creator who formed us with your own hands, thank you for giving me good work to do, people to work with, and the abilities to do this work.
(Name accomplishments, meaningful moments, coworkers, other reasons for gratitude.)
Release All the Work Undone
(Write all unfinished business on a piece of scrap paper at the keyboard.)
This work is not mine alone to do, nor can I do it all. There is so much beyond my capacity, that is for other hands and minds.
I’ve done all I can for the day. I release all I can’t do to Christ, in whom all things hold together. I trust that as I rest, the Spirit continues to move, making connections between people, projects, and ideas, stirring up new energy, purpose, and possibility for tomorrow.
For today, my work is done.
(Close laptop, stand up, outstretch hands over desk, palms open in a gesture of release. Deep breath in, gathering all the unfinished work. Deep breath out, letting it all go.)
Act II: Transition
(Identify a threshold space—could be a hallway, a doorway, a staircase, a tree on the commute home. Slowly and mindfully cross the threshold.)
Affirm Identity Outside of Work
I am more than what I do for a job. My value rests not in my productivity, but in my inherent belovedness. I am made for relationship.
(Take off sweater/shirt worn during work, put on a different article of clothing. Channel inner Mr. Rogers.)
Act III: Entering In
Receive the Gifts of the Evening
I claim these gifts which are mine by birth: to rest, to play, to eat nourishing food, to take care of my body, to move my body, to be with those I love, and to do things simply because they bring me joy.
(Put on a song, dance, shake it out. Resist the urge to check email or answer work-related requests. Be present to the unfolding of the evening. Get enough sleep.)
Let me know if you have rituals or prayers to help you end the work day!
Join Us for the Liturgies of Restoration Lenten Study!
Speaking of liturgies, A Rocha USA is adapting the Liturgies of Restoration workbook I wrote for Au Sable Institute into a 5-week study during Lent on practices that form us in postures of worship, action, community, and hope within a damaged creation.
You can join the full online study experience here. We’ll be posting weekly readings, practices, and discussion questions. There will be space to interact with others doing the study.
If you just want an intro, I’ll be co-leading a webinar on February 15, 7-8 pm CT that explores some of the practices in the workbook. It will be a time to slow down and sink in to what it means to be people of restoration.
Recently Published
“Hard Times Require Furious Dancing: The power of doing ordinary things in solidarity with those who cannot.” - my latest column for Sojourners.
“Heat Study: Chicago Temperatures Vary As Much As 22 Degrees Between Neighborhoods” - on the results of a Chicago citizen science project and developing Chicago’s Heat Vulnerability Index,
for Borderless Magazine.