Still, I wonder if in our encouragement to mothers, we might have developed a touch of socio-economic myopia. In our attempts to support each other, have we ignored other types of difficult work? Have we so hallowed this calling that we’ve failed to remember that many, many people work quiet, thankless, exhausting jobs? Many, many people struggle through their days wondering if they’re going to make it. And many, many people feel like failures.

If you hang around the mommy blogosphere at all, you’re probably familiar with the “mommy missive”–posts written to encourage women who find themselves in the daily grind of washing dishes and wiping bottoms and wondering if this is all there is to life. As a mom, I’ve benefited from such posts; I’ve also written my fair share of them. But on this Labor Day 2014, I’m wondering about something. I wonder if in our efforts to encourage moms, we’re missing an opportunity to turn their eyes to the bigger picture.

Don’t get me wrong. Motherhood is a tiring, thankless job. I’ve spent the last 10 years doing it and for 7 of those years, I didn’t know what 8 hrs of sleep felt like. I rarely had time to think, let alone read, write, or pray. I often wondered whether what I was doing was worth it, and secretly vowed to get my hands on whoever drew all those pretty pictures of mothers sweetly rocking their children to sleep. At least for me, the “domestic life” wasn’t a quiet, civilized experience. The minute I became a mother, I became a lion tamer. I was the one doing the domesticating.

Still, I wonder if in our encouragement to mothers, we might have developed a touch of socio-economic myopia. In our attempts to support each other, have we ignored other types of difficult work? Have we so hallowed this calling that we’ve failed to remember that many, many people work quiet, thankless, exhausting jobs? Many, many people struggle through their days wondering if they’re going to make it. And many, many people feel like failures.

I’m concerned that we might be losing the ability to imagine other people’s difficulties because we’ve become so consumed with our own. I can say this because I’ve done it myself. The other day I realized that while I’ve been very careful to teach my children to thank God for their daily bread, I haven’t been as careful to teach them to thank Him for the people He used to provide it.

Think about this: In order for most of us to serve our family something as basic as green beans, they must first be

1.  planted and tended by a farmer who was in the field long before his children were awake;
2.  picked by a migrant worker far from his native home and culture;
3.  processed in a plant by a minimum wage employee;
4.  transported to the store by a trucker who spends days and weeks away from home;
5.  (who stopped to buy fuel from a gas station attendant working the graveyard shift);
6.  stocked by a man trying to support his family while he works his way through school;
7.  sold by a single mom working as a cashier;
8. and bagged by a retiree who mistakenly thought his retirement plan would be enough to get by.

Being a mom is challenging. And yet, how often do we, the very people who should have the most empathy for those doing quiet, thankless work, pass by these same people without a moment’s thought because we’re absorbed with our own angst. If motherhood has taught us anything, it is how to work faithfully behind the scenes–to find God in the moments when no one else sees, to work for an audience of One, and to embrace the calling, whether it’s laundry or processing green beans, as from His hand. So motherhood also teaches us to be the first to celebrate those who work faithfully at their own callings, no matter what they may be.

Because, in the end, this is how any of us find peace and stability in our work. We find peace and stability by embracing it because God has given it to us–not because our work is more (or less) important or more (or less) difficult than anyone else’s. And when we do embrace our work as from God, we accept the challenges that are unique to it, working for the joy of the calling—His calling. And ultimately we continue in our work the same way that everyone else does: by His grace and by believing that He rewards quiet, faithful service.

Hannah Anderson is a wife of a pastor and a mother of three children.  This article first appeared on her blog Sometimes a Light and is used with permission.