Sacrifices Paid Off Quotes

I imagined downtime, thoughtful gifts for my parents, the family vacations we’d never taken, their mortgage paid off. I imagined all their hard work finally repaid, all their sacrifices not only compensated but rewarded. I imagined them thinking it was all worth it. Telling me how much they loved me. All my life, when I thought of my future, that was what I pictured. Not a career. The things I thought would come with it. Happiness, love, safety. And that dream had been enough for a long time. What was school if not a chance to earn your worth?

This not-hotness had weighed heavily on his mind, but he tried to dismiss it as envy. Envy was just the tax you paid on success. There had been other sacrifices on his part. Regretfully he had been obliged to shuffle off some old friends from University, because after all it wasn’t 1988 anymore. His old flatmate, Callum, the one he was meant to start a business with, continued to leave increasingly sarcastic messages, but Dexter hoped he’d get the idea soon. What were you meant to do, all live in a big house together for the rest of your lives? No, friends were like clothes: fine while they lasted but eventually they wore thin or you grew out of them.

And now without redemption all mankind Must have been lost, adjudged to death and hell By doom severe, had not the Son of God, In whom the fullness dwells of love divine, His dearest mediation thus renewed. 'Father, Thy word is passed, man shall find grace; And shall grace not find means, that finds her way, The speediest of Thy winged messengers, To visit all Thy creatures, and to all Comes unprevented, unimplored, unsought, Happy for man, so coming; he her aid Can never seek, once dead in sins and lost; Atonement for himself or offering meet, Indebted and undone, hath none to bring: Behold Me then, Me for him, life for life I offer, on Me let Thine anger fall; Account Me man; I for his sake will leave Thy bosom, and this glory next to Thee Freely put off, and for him lastly die Well pleased, on Me let death wreak all his rage; Under his gloomy power I shall not long Lie vanquished; Thou hast given Me to possess Life in Myself forever, by Thee I live, Though now to death I yield, and am his due All that of Me can die, yet that debt paid, Thou wilt not leave Me in the loathsome grave His prey, nor suffer My unspotted soul Forever with corruption there to dwell; But I shall rise victorious, and subdue My vanquisher, spoiled of his vaunted spoil; Death his death's wound shall then receive, and stoop Inglorious, of his mortal sting disarmed.

That something I cannot yet define completely but the feeling comes when you write well and truly of something and know impersonally you have written in that way and those who are paid to read it and report on it do not like the subject so they say it is all a fake, yet you know its value absolutely; or when you do something which people do not consider a serious occupation and yet you know, truly, that it is as important and has always been as important as all th things that are in fashion, and when, on the sea, you are alone with it and know that this Gulf Stream you are living with, knowing, learning about, and loving, has moved, as it moves, since before man and that it has gone by the shoreline of that long, beautiful, unhappy island since before Columbus sighted it and that the things you find out about it, and those that have always lived in it are permanent and of value because that stream will flow, as it has flowed, after the Indians, after the Spaniards, after the British, after the Americans and after all the Cubans and all the systems of governments, the richness, the poverty, the martyrdom, the sacrifice and the venality and the cruelty are all gone as the high-piled scow of garbage, bright-colored, white-flecked, ill-smelling, now tilted on its side, spills off its load into the blue water, turning it a pale green to a depth of four or five fathoms as the load spreads across the surface, the sinkable part going down and the flotsam of palm fronds, corks, bottles, and used electric light globes, seasoned with an occasional condom or a deep floating corset, the torn leaves of a student's exercise book, a well-inflated dog, the occasional rat, the no-longer-distinguished cat; well shepherded by the boats of the garbage pickers who pluck their prizes with long poles, as interested, as intelligent, and as accurate as historians; they have the viewpoint; the stream, with no visible flow, takes five loads of this a day when things are going well in La Habana and in ten miles along the coast it is as clear and blue and unimpressed as it was ever before the tug hauled out the scow; and the palm fronds of our victories, the worn light bulbs of our discoveries and the empty condoms of our great loves float with no significance against one single, lasting thing - the stream.

We celebrate the dedication of Olympic athletes who diet and train and exercise daily for years in order to prepare for the games. They give up not only physical comfort but also any hope of a normal social and family life. When police officers or firefighters die, often thousands turn out for their funerals. We honor our children who die in military service in much the same way—often arranging public ceremonies and holidays. We expect television celebrities such as actors, news correspondents and musicians to sacrifice any kind of normal life in order to entertain us around the clock—and they are paid millions of dollars to do so. The names of astronauts become household words because they risk their lives in order to forward the conquest of space. But the minute a Christian young person starts to fast and pray, consider the mission field or give up career or romance for Christ—concerned counselors, family and friends will spend hours trying to keep him or her from “going off the deep end on this religious stuff.” Even devout Christian parents will oppose Christian service when their own son or daughter is about to give up all for Christ. Discipline, pain, sacrifice and suffering are rewarded with fame and fortune in the world. Why then do we refuse to accept it as a normal part of giving spiritual birth in the kingdom of our Lord?

So despite the Orthodox prohibition against working on Saturday, and despite having three school-age children, for many years Hadassah worked for Huguette from eight A.M. to eight P.M., twelve hours a day, seven days a week, fifty-two weeks a year. She was up and out of the house before her children left for school and home close to bedtime. It would be several years before she took a day off. Hadassah was paid $30 an hour, $2,520 a week, $131,040 a year, but she described her self-sacrifice for Huguette as extreme. “I give my life to Madame,” Hadassah said.

When dusk fell, my family, along with what appeared to be all the citizens of Hytanica, gathered at the military training field, where the Captain of the Guard’s body had been placed on a litter above a stack of firewood, ready to be burned, his soul already committed to God by our priests. Soldiers had stood guard around the site all day, and people had been coming in a steady stream to pay their respects. Many of them had left tokens of esteem at the base of the pyre--weapons of various types, coins, embroidered handkerchiefs, trophies won in battle or at tournaments, military medals and insignia. Even small children came forward, laying flowers, notes, toys and other items that had some special meaning to them among the other gifts. It made me both sad and proud when Celdrid walked forward and added his sword to the growing mound of mementos, the one that had originally been given to Steldor by our father, to be passed on by Steldor to my brother. It was perhaps Celdrid’s most coveted possession. He looked to Steldor as he came back to stand by us, and our cousin gave him a salute. When all the individuals who wanted to do so had paid homage to the captain, everyone stood in silence, the stillness of the large crowd itself a potent tribute. Grief could be a powerful, uniting force. Off to the side, separated from the masses, stood Steldor and Galen, their faces stoic, both wearing their military uniforms and holding lighted torches in preparation for setting the wood ablaze. King Adrik finally broke the silence, stepping forward as the appropriate representative of the royal family to say a few words. Queen Alera had not yet returned from Cokyri, another source of worry for the subdued throng. The former King cleared his throat and then began to speak, his deep voice easily carrying across the field. “We come together to honor a man of duty and devotion, strength and compassion, courage and wisdom. A man who put kingdom and family before all else, but who included within his family every citizen in need. A man of unwavering allegiance who steadfastly served his King and Queen for over thirty years. A man whose legacy will live on in his son and in every life he touched. A man I was proud to name my Captain of the Guard and to call my friend. And who, while serving the kingdom he loved, made the ultimate sacrifice. Let us celebrate his life this night, and may his funeral pyre burn as a bright beacon of hope in the darkness, letting the entire Recorah River Valley know that Hytanica is free once more.” Cheers went up from the crowd, then Steldor and Galen stepped forward and touched their torches to the pitch-soaked firewood. With a roar, flames shot into the air, befitting the man who had lived with an equally fiery passion.

Some immigrants to the United States borrow a great deal of money from investors to get to America. Upon arrival they are required to work off the debt to the investor over a period of time. Many Christians view their salvation the same way—that they owe Christ a lifetime of indentured servanthood. This is completely understandable—especially with such Christian phrases like “He paid a debt He didn’t owe,” that set us up with the wrong perspective. The debtor concept sets us up to see God as an all-powerful slave master, always expecting us to “pay up” with all the religious currency we can gather!       First of all, we are not foreigners trying to immigrate to heaven. Heaven is our true home. God is our true Father. We are His people. He does not bring us to Himself and then have us pay off our debt to Him for doing so. The pleasure of redemption and the joy of salvation is God’s. It is for His supreme pleasure and for the glory of His name that He has saved and redeemed us. To require us to work off some sort of debt for His redemption would be to dilute his pleasure, adulterate His supreme act of love, and weaken His powerful sacrifice.

But Ky understood. She hated how well she now understood. After all, hadn’t she kept every hurt she’d ever experienced from her own parents? Hadn’t she hidden the bullying, the name-calling, the cruel acts of strangers, the times she’d been told to go back to where she came from, the ching-chongs, the pulled-back eyelids, the blondies with the Cabbage Patch Kids, the way she was forced to play the monster, the way she was asked why she couldn’t just take a joke, the times she was told that Asian women were ugly, kinky, docile, crazy, nerdy, unworthy, the way she was dismissed by men, the way she was dismissed by white men, their comments about what Asian women were and weren’t, what Asian women could or couldn’t be, the way she smiled with her tongue pressed against her teeth even as an ache beat in tandem with her heart—hadn’t she hidden all of that? And hadn’t she lived her own ambitious, exciting, anxious, uncompromising life while knowing that she could never, ever, ever, ever tell her parents about what she had been through? Because knowing would break their hearts. Because she had to help them believe that their sacrifices had paid off. Because she had to help them believe that moving to a country where they didn’t speak the language and weren’t seen as individuals had been worth it. Because she had to convince them that they’d done right by their children, that no one had failed, that no one had been let down, that they were one of the lucky ones who’d followed the path and found success. It made perfect sense. You lied to protect. You lied because of love.

Although employers aren’t trying to entice employees to quit, their goal is similar in arriving at a compensation package to get the prospect to accept the offer and stay in the job. They must balance offering attractive pay and benefits with going too far and impairing their ability to make a profit. Employers also want employees to be loyal, and work long, productive hours, and maintain morale. An employer might or might not offer on-premises child care. That could encourage someone to work more hours . . . or scare off a prospective employee because it implies they may be expected to sacrifice aspects of their non-work lives. Offering paid vacation leave makes a job more attractive but, unlike offering free dining and exercise facilities, encourages them to spend time away from work. Hiring an employee, like offering a bet, is not a riskless choice. Betting on hiring the wrong person can have a huge cost (as the CEO who fired his president can attest). Recruitment costs can be substantial, and every job offer has an associated opportunity cost. This is the only person you can offer this opportunity. You might have dodged the cost of hiring Bernie Madoff, but you might have lost the benefit of hiring Bill Gates.

All told, the French made seven dives in Archimède during the first part of Project FAMOUS. When I returned home, I hunkered down for a final 10-month push to finish writing my dissertation, “The Nature of Triassic Continental Rift Structures in the Gulf of Maine.” My oral defense was another tense moment, with several faculty members tossing their toughest questions at me. But all the sacrifice paid off. I passed. I had my Ph.D. degree, and for the rest of my life, nobody could tell me that I couldn’t do it.

Golden Gold Vine Part One There was a miser who prized her, this golden gold vine. This sapling so gilded, her leaflings did shine. The moment he saw her, he let out a whisper of, “mine.” He’d found her in rubble, along a plain road. Unburied, he took her, in pocket he stowed. Back to his house, where he stared at her gleam. Hands curled to covet, want stitched to seam. What a chance this was, the chance for much more. So he planted her there, right outside his front door. Kept under secrets and hidden she lay. This old miser did find her, did steal her away. Brought to the yard, he planted her there. Fenced her all in to shelter her glare. Soon she grew tiny buds, glinting with gold. He plucked them by one, went to town to be sold. He paid off his debts, bought whatever he sought. But it wasn’t enough, whatever he got. For greed had been planted beside her thin roots. Want had leafed out, along with her shoots. Yet although he watered, soon she did wilt. Her golden did dull and worry he spilt. For his most prized possession looked right to be culled. She wasted away, while he fretted and mulled. It wasn't til so angry, he pulled out his hair. Brown clumps all fallen on the vine bare, that her color suddenly glistened, her vine did then surge. She grew ever much from his body he'd purged. Ecstatic, he knew, what he must do. So this miser clip-clipped, and gold flowers then bloomed. His hair he snip-snipped, gladly shedding his plume. For she would not grow without sacrifice. Only pieces of him would ever suffice. For her to keep growing, that was her price. This golden gold vine was the miser’s own vice. To be continued…

But the start-up was the land of mercenaries, young men whose spirits ran counter to traditional corporate culture but who were vastly capitalistic in their personal financial ambitions and their sacrifices. As risky as start-ups were, given that most failed, these employees had little notion or expectation of stability. In addition, start-ups often paid less than comparable corporate jobs but required more hours. To offset the low compensation and lack of job security, start-ups offered equity in the form of stock options. And if the stock options paid off, the newly rich early employee often became difficult to manage. The dynamics were more similar to joining a pirate ship than the Royal Navy.

Clayton Christensen, the Harvard business professor and author of The Innovator’s Dilemma, was once asked to make just such a sacrifice. At the time, he was working for a management consulting firm, and one of the partners came to him and told him he needed to come in on Saturday to help work on a project. Clay simply responded: “Oh, I am so sorry. I have made the commitment that every Saturday is a day to be with my wife and children.” The partner, displeased, stormed off, but later he returned and he said: “Clay, fine. I have talked with everyone on the team and they said they will come in on Sunday instead. So I will expect you to be there.” Clay sighed and said: “I appreciate you trying to do that. But Sunday will not work. I have given Sunday to God and so I won’t be able to come in.” If the partner was frustrated before, he was much more so now. Still, Clay was not fired for standing his ground, and while his choice was not popular in the moment, ultimately he was respected for it. The boundaries paid off.

To do truly meaningful work, you need to get serious, focus, and go all in. Floyd Mayweather Junior is the best pound-for-pound boxer in the world. As of this writing, he is also the highest paid athlete in the world. His motto? Hard Work, Dedication. His team chants the motto as he trains. One group yells, “Hard work!” and the other responds, “Dedication!” The chants get louder and faster as Mayweather increases the speed and intensity of his workout. Mayweather knows the value of these words, and the impact they have on success. He lives by them. He endures grueling training sessions, 2-3 times per day. He often trains late into the night. He doesn’t smoke or drink alcohol—ever. Floyd Mayweather is no joke. He’s the real deal. And that’s why he’s such a big deal. He lives to box. It’s what he loves to do. His hard work and dedication have paid off, literally. Some people question Mayweather’s morals, or ridicule him for his arrogance, but it’s hard to argue with his unparalleled achievements in boxing and the relentless dedication that backs it all up. The best in the world are the best because they work their asses off doing what they were born to do. They make sacrifices. They keep grinding—and they don’t stop.[36]

Yet Kantarō felt that he himself was an obedient animal, no longer capable of effective resistance. To him it seemed that his father’s prolonged detention, the homes left defenseless while factories were being so solidly protected, and the repeated beatings of starving workers who were simply demanding to be paid, all stemmed from a single principle: only the great grow fat—and at the sacrifice of all the countless ones who are small. Long ago, Father had tried to unmask the village assemblymen who had diverted the funds intended for the construction of a school into playing with geishas. For that he had been shoved off the plank and his fall began. He had to keep falling until he could fall no further. It had nothing to do with fate. The little people fall to protect the big. For their sake we must all fall down all the way to rock bottom! But the time will come when the whole gigantic structure itself will be shaken from its foundation stones and collapse. It most certainly will.

Male investment and female disinvestment in jobs then fuels the inequality in parenting. The asymmetries between the parents in pursuing their aspirations, deferring to spouses, and taking time off or reducing time in paid work may perpetuate an unequal balance at home and at work. When these asymmetries result in men's deriving greater financial and psychological rewards at work than their wives, inequality at home just seems to make sense. But when men like Jonathan start making the same kinds of choices as women, putting family ahead of career, the logic of inequality is no longer compelling. He shows us that just as women have always done, men can limit their time working and even sacrifice some of their dreams for achievement. It isn't easy. Even Jonathan lives with regrets about his career, but he also knows that his career sacrifices have allowed him the happiest parts of his life, caring for his children. -Halving it All