No "Do-overs"

In case you hadn't noticed, life has no rewind button; nor are time machines real. Once you take your finger off of the chess piece, that turn us over and, once you are older than two or three, you can't change your mind and make a different move--there are no do-overs. Someone once said, "You are free to make whatever choices you may want, but you are not free from the consequences of your choices." As in chess, so in life.

Regret is a hard thought/emotion for many people to deal with--myself among them. Even though I know that there is no time machine that can allow me to go back and undo mistakes, bad decisions, and outright wrong choices, I still wish that there were. Of course, why do I think that I would get it right the second time? (Perhaps because I cling to the hope that we actually can learn from our mistakes.) You cannot go back and un-eat yesterday's second serving of turkey and dressing, or that fifth piece of pie; but there is no reason that you have to do the same thing today (even if you are celebrating a second Thanksgiving with your other family).

Ortberg writes that people's regrets generally fall into four categories: I would have loved more deeply; I would have laughed more often; I would have given more generously; and I would have lived more boldly.

There will be other posts to unpack each of these, but just a few initial thoughts. Each of these qualities of living is possible no matter how young or old a person may be. Each of these qualities of living is also possible no matter what choices you may have made in the past. Each day is a new day and in addition to God's mercies being new every morning, so are my life quality options. Maybe only in small ways, but new all the same.

Today I can choose attitudes and actions that will express love more deeply; that will laugh often; that will be giving of time, energy, and other resources; and that will not be timid. If I had Bill Gates-type money I would still have the same core choices--the manifestation of those choices might look different, but they are still the same choices. If I were in prison for the next 20 years I would still have the same choices. The context of the choices or their boundaries might look different, but the core choices would remain the same.

BUT the kicker is that I must choose--or something will be chosen for me, and I will still need to live with the consequences. Today it is my turn (game analogy) and I cannot skip my turn or come back to it later. Today I must make today's choices, so why not choose today to love, laugh, give, and live boldly? I think that this quality of living may also carry fewer regrets into tomorrow.

Pressing On!

Back in the Box

For as long as I can remember, I have been aware that there is an eternal aspect to everyday life. That even in the midst of the day-to-day, there is some dimension of those activities that can last forever. Not that I have always chosen wisely, but at least I have been aware of the issue. John Ortberg's new book, When the Game is Over it all Goes Back in the Box, has been a practical, new look at this issue that has resonated with the way I think.

Ortberg uses the rubric of game-playing to help me focus on that which is most important and to keep everything else in proper perspective. He starts with Monopoly and recalls playing with his Grandmother--an avid player. You know the feeling, you get some good properties, some houses and hotels, then other players start landing on your places and paying you exorbitant rent until you wipe them out. Yet, no matter how much you have accumulated during the game, when you are finished playing, it all goes back in the box--all the houses and hotels, all the money, all of the talking smack to other players, even the game pieces themselves--and it no longer matters what happened around the Monopoly table.

One message that has come clear through the book is that I can enjoy playing the game and even enjoy winning from time to time, but it is far more important to enjoy the other players, than to alienate others for the sake of winning the game.

I can see a bit of this in my new job. I am thoroughly enjoying the first month and I think that it has been a great move. The people I work with are driven to make the business succeed, but also seem to have a pretty good handle on the importance of the team and of each person's contribution to the team. There are high expectations for performance, but there is also an atmosphere of being willing to take time to get to know each other on more than a "what can you do for the company" level. I feel fortunate to have had several meaningful conversations with my colleagues that have gone far beyond what we are doing to grow the business. We are in this game to win, but there is a healthy sense that we are in this game together.

For some reason, right now the "together" part of work, church, and family seems more important to me than it ever has before--perhaps because of the recent reminders that together can be a fleeting state of being. If so, the best approach may be to focus intently on playing today's game today, with whomever is around the table, and let tomorrow's game wait for tomorrow.

Pressing On!

Measured Against Whom?

Last week an editorial in the New York Times bemoaned the fact that there are too many slow people "running" marathons these days. The writer was lamenting the new reality that marathons are not just for elite runners anymore. Even more or less regular people participate these days. Part of the author's contention was that if people are not going to run fast for 26.2 miles, then they should not be in the race at all.

What does my "slow" running take away from the speedy front-of-the-pack crowd? Does the fact that I finished my one marathon in just under 5 hours diminish the accomplishment of the winner who finished his 26.2 in less than half that amount of time? Is the editorialist offended that I get the same finisher's medal and shirt that the fast runners get?

This whole issue gave me plenty to think about on this morning's misty, cold (but not snowy :-)) 6.3. When I run, who am I running for, or against? For the most part, I am not running against anyone, because I am in no danger of seeing the top of the winner's podium. I am running with lots of people--some of whom I know and most I do not. Mostly, I suppose that I am running for me. I like running. I enjoy the challenge of trying to get a better time than the last race. I like the thought that at almost 50 and after three knee operations, I can still run a long way. Not fast, but with no less effort than the fast people (I think, never having been a remotely fast person since college). So for the fast New York Times editorialist, stay on the race course plugging away for five hours then come an tell me that my effort is insignificant because I am slow. And by the way, I am not running against you :-)

Comparison can be a motivator, but more often pushes us to do or try something that is not us. If I try to keep up with the fast runners, I will fail because that is not who I am. If I focus on running my pace and finishing my race, then I am successful.

I think that the same is true in our faith. If I am constantly comparing myself to others and what they can do, then I will end up frustrated. But if I focus on the best and highest utilization of the gifts that I have been entrusted with, then I will have success. There is a reason that Paul the apostle told Christ-followers to "fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith," rather than telling us to be a better church person than the guy next door. In essence what Paul is saying is keep your eyes on the finish line and you will run well.

Pressing on,
-Ken

Embrace the 'Flakes

It is getting to be that time of year again here in Minnesota--and much earlier than I remember from past years. Yesterday's 4.5 miles were blanketed with a steady snowfall. Not just flurries, but the big flakes that get stuck on your eyelashes (thanks Julie Andrews) and melt down your face, making you look like you have been crying over a very hard run. But it was not a hard run. In fact, since the roads were warm enough not to be icy by the time I was out, I had a steady running surface and the cool splats were refreshing.

There are two types of people who live in Minnesota, those who will sit inside until April or May and lament that they live in the nation's icebox; and those who find some way to get out and enjoy the wintry aspects of nature. We have had years that felt like the former, but the latter is the way to go. It is amazing what it does for your attitude to get out regularly, breathe some fresh clear air, and do something.

My friend Jeff knew an older woman who used to make it a point to be thankful for the things that she could not change. So on a mid-October day when it snows a couple of inches, I imagine that she would say, "Today, I thank God for the weather."

Not to sound trite, but I wonder how my approach to life would be different if I did what I could to change what I can, and was thankful for all that I cannot change? Perhaps I should give it a shot.

Pressing on,
-Ken

The Best Small Group in the World

No offense intended to anyone who has ever been in a small group with me before, but our current small group is the best. We have moved to a point of experiencing more "true community" than any other group I can remember. We are six (maybe soon to be seven) couples who have some things in common, but most things not. We are part of the same church, but have very different levels of involvement. We all have kids of similar ages--but three different school systems. Most of us have been married a similar amount of time (three of the couples celebrated 25th anniversaries this summer), but have had different experiences of being married. Some are talkers and others are more quiet. Some say the first thing that comes to mind and others are more measured in what they say. But the most important commonality is that we care for each other and want to grow closer to God together.

Increasingly I am coming to believe that people need each other. Two weekends ago I ran the TC 10-miler and throughout the race came across groups of people who were running together. Although we all covered the same distance, it felt as though maybe their ten miles were shorter than mine. On a more serious side, my cousin is in the final stages of his battle with a brain tumor and it appears that his family has benefited from the support of a large group of friends who have been nearby. Proximity matters! The other night I had dinner with an old friend and it felt very good to reconnect with a guy with whom I go back decades.

We really do need each other! Press on.