I've learned the importance of loving what you do. I have also

Hear, O seekers of wisdom and harmony, the words of Randy Travis, who walked the long and winding road of song: “I’ve learned the importance of loving what you do. I have also learned more patience due to the nature of the music business.” In these words there lies a teaching deeper than melody or fame, a truth that resounds through the ages: that love gives purpose to toil, and patience gives endurance to struggle. Without these two, no craft can thrive, no art can last, and no soul can find peace amidst the trials of its journey.

From the beginning of time, the artisans, the poets, and the singers have known that labor without love is slavery, but labor with love is freedom. To love what you do is to awaken each morning with joy, to endure hardship with hope, and to see in every obstacle not a burden, but a chance to grow. Travis, tested by the unpredictable tides of the music business, learned that success is not built in haste, nor is it sustained by talent alone. It is born of devotion to the craft and the quiet strength of waiting.

Consider, O listeners, the tale of Johann Sebastian Bach. Though he was not hailed with fame in his own day, he loved what he did. He wrote music week after week, year after year, for his church, his patrons, and his students. His name was not shouted in the streets, yet his work endured. Centuries later, the world recognized the depth of his genius. It was his love of creation, joined with patience, that gave his music the power to outlive him. Here is Travis’s truth echoed: that to endure in the arts, one must love, and one must wait.

So too in the struggles of life beyond music. The farmer must plant with patience, waiting for rains that may or may not come. The teacher must sow knowledge in restless minds, knowing that the fruit may appear only years later. The builder must labor stone by stone, loving the craft though the work is slow. In every field, as in the music business, the same law rules: haste destroys, but patience sustains; indifference corrodes, but love enlivens.

The meaning of Randy Travis’s words, then, is clear: passion and patience are the twin pillars of fulfillment. To love what you do ensures that your heart remains alive, even when the world does not recognize you. To endure with patience ensures that your work can survive the trials of rejection, delay, and change. For in every endeavor—be it art, work, or family—the storms will come. Only those who love deeply and wait faithfully can stand firm until the storm has passed.

The lesson for you, O hearers, is this: seek always to labor in what you love. If your heart is not in your work, strive to find that which brings your soul to life. And when you find it, guard it with patience. Do not demand that fruit ripen before its time, nor that recognition come in an instant. Let your journey unfold, step by step, with trust that your devotion will one day bear its harvest.

Practical actions follow. Each morning, remind yourself of the love that called you to your path. When setbacks come, recall that even the greatest endured long seasons of waiting. Practice patience in small things—listening when others speak, waiting without anger in moments of delay—for these train the soul to endure larger trials. And above all, remember that to love and to wait are not weaknesses, but strengths, for they build a foundation that no storm can wash away.

Therefore, O children of tomorrow, hold fast to Randy Travis’s wisdom: “Love what you do, and learn patience.” For with love, your work will give you joy even in the shadows; and with patience, your work will endure until it finds its place in the sun. These are the virtues that sustain the artist, the laborer, the parent, the dreamer—and these are the virtues that will sustain you, if you choose them.