Three Cheers for Quiet Work - BYU Magazine

Three Cheers for Quiet Work - BYU Magazine
Quiet work infuses and sustains our lives. Like the humble mortar that binds together the polished stone of a temple, quiet work underpins society, enabling our lives to function smoothly and to resonate with beauty. Most of us do quiet work; our efforts are not applauded by large audiences or accompanied by grand awards or celebrated with banquets or press releases. Accountants, nurses, construction workers, parents; lives saved, problems solved, improvements made, tears dried—all with no fanfare and no credit line.

One night when I was about 5 years old, I rushed from the dinner table in tears after my siblings’ teasing became too much. My mother soon came to my room and sat with me. She told me that when I had shared my testimony in sacrament meeting it had touched her heart and brought her peace. She expressed confidence in me and said she believed me capable of great things. It was a simple moment, a quiet moment. No crowds rose in thundering ovation as she left my room. No author composed a magazine article to commend her effort—at least not then. But that little moment has influenced my life for nearly four decades, giving me a motivating vision of my potential, an enduring assurance of being loved.

Quiet work. It can change our lives. Anonymous, subtle, discreet, it affects the course of history—personal or international—with hardly a headline. In his poem “Quiet Work,” Arnold praises the constant, hushed effort of nature, the “lasting fruit” of which is “too great for haste, too high for rivalry.” Like the grandeur of creation, much of the quiet work around us transcends the bustle and clamor of other activities in life, taking its glory not from the attention granted it but from the effort itself. This anonymity is, in part, what endows quiet work with its nobility.

Yet those of us who benefit from the muted labor of others should not be content with their undercover status. Our debt of gratitude should move us, from time to time and more often than we think, to give quiet work its due, to make noise about the noiseless. We should herald the unheralded, giving apt acclaim to those who devote their efforts, in Arnold’s words, to “glorious tasks in silence perfecting.”