Counting the Real Things in Life

 

Photo by Trust "Tru" Katsande on Unsplash

Eve Arnold recently wrote an article that has stuck with me with me. In it, she wrote:

If you can, even for just a second, stop where you are, look around and count all the real things in your life, you’ll realise, you’re much richer than you think.

My employees know I’m the kind of person who engages in far more than I can ever accomplish in a day. I have more unfinished projects than I can count because I’m constantly distracted by either a higher priority or because I have a hard time saying no (mostly the latter).

I spend most of my waking hours in some degree of overwhelm.

Recently, I spent some time in the desert wilderness of Southern Utah camping with my family. We decided to leave at 4:30 am on the day of our trip. We woke up just after 2:00 am, finished our packing, and got on the road by 4:45.

Mornings are my thing, so I didn’t have any problem driving as my family settled back into peaceful slumber in the car (except for my youngest who stayed awake the whole 3.5 hour drive).

I regularly kiss my wife goodbye in the morning while she sleeps, but it’s not often that I see her sleep as daylight creeps over the horizon. Time slowed down just a little that morning each time I stole a glance at my wife as she slept. It’s an increasingly rare privilege to be married to your best friend. My relationship with my wife is one of the most real things I know.

We arrived at our campsite just after sunrise. The air was still crisp; a light breeze rustled the polychromatic leaves that had just begun to fall from the trees.

Days spent camping are paradoxically long and short. The hours seemed to stretch on as we alternated between just hanging out at camp and hiking in various places of the 45,000-acre wilderness area around us, yet sunset arrived before we knew it.

Time around the campfire singing silly campfire songs has been a tradition in my wife’s family for more than 70 years. My mother-in-law plays her guitar with the family singing along as best as they can. There’s never any judgment around how well a person sings or even if they choose not to participate. When they were little, every one of my children fell asleep in our arms as we sat around the camp fire singing.

When the distractions of everyday life are removed, it’s far easier to stay focused on the things that matter most; the real things. For me, this is a list of a few of the real things in my life.

• My wife. I feel so fortunate that my wife is, in all things, my favorite person. We laugh together, cry together, have intellectual conversations together, and watch Hallmark movies together.
• My children. An unknown author said that, “Children are the quiet miracle of a life unfolding before your eyes — a reminder that love is timeless, growth sacred, and every small moment together a gift that shapes you as much as you shape them.” That summarizes how I think about my children often. I’d be lying if I said that was always the case.
• My religion. I am devoted to my faith. I believe that religion has the potential to bring out the best in me and helps me see the best in others.
• My extended relationships. Outside of my wife and children, there are relationships in my life that I cherish above all. These might be relationships with extended family or friends.
• Reading. There are few things that bring calm into my life more than reading a good book. This is probably the thing I lose touch with more than anything when work gets busy. Well, that and my extended relationships that tend to get neglected when things are hectic.
• Helping others. Serving others is something that’s very real to me. In my employment and especially outside of it, I derive a lot of satisfaction from helping others solve their problems.

In my life, I’ve never had to deal with food insecurity. My family has always had a safe place to live. I acknowledge there are hundreds of millions of people worldwide for whom that is not a reality. At times, I’ve been given to excess, and I am self-aware enough to realize that my excess could have been better used to lift others.

Coming back to what Eve said, the real things in life bring me to quiet reflection on the kind of wealth I really have, one that exists outside of status, schedules, and the demands of unfinished projects. Connecting with the real things in life brings irreplaceable richness to our lives. Even in the busyness of life, we’re surrounded by real things that we may overlook.

The next time you feel overwhelmed, pause and consider the real things in your life. It may just change how you view things.

Enough Is Worth Striving For

 

---

Photo by Carl Tronders on Unsplash

My favorite song, “Enough” by Gentri, opens with a haunting phrase:

I wake to face the day already buried under the noise that never fades.¹

That’s how my life feels most days, and most of it’s self-inflicted. I tallied the number of projects I’ve got under development apart from my day job. The number shocked me. I have twenty-eight separate projects going, ranging from one off reports to full-blown enterprise data analysis tools.

I suppose I’ve always thrived on having a lot to do. I enjoy slow activities like reading so it’s really not that I’m trying to avoid being bored. Perhaps I do have a mild fear of silence, except that my mind is never quiet.

In the last year, my capacity to keep my arms around everything that’s going on has diminished to about one-fifth of what it was just a year ago. That is, of course, proportionate to the number of projects I’m working on and that each of those projects clamors for my attention daily.

I often jump from one project to the next which exacerbates that problem. 

A few days ago, I read something written by Eve Arnold² that is profound in its obviousness.

Life isn’t all about moving the needle, sometimes it’s just about living today as lovely as you can.

There’s a tragic irony about people approaching burnout: it’s that many of us believe if we just work harder for a little longer, we’ll get through it and “everything will be okay” on the other side. It’s a logical fallicy that can literally be the death of you.

We had a family trip planned for an entire week. My wife’s been watching the anxiety build around my work, and offered that perhaps I should stay home so I could get some things done.

For a moment, I seriously considered her offer. I hadn’t been any help to her in getting things ready, and I’m pretty sure when that offer came she considered me the source of all life’s problems.

I didn’t take her up on that, and as I’m writing this article, the sun is just beginning to peak over the red cliffs that are so prominent in the area where we are.

A dark picture from the back porch where we’re staying just as the sun creeps over the horizon.

My amazing wife and me on a hike that my youngest declared “the best hike he’s ever been on.”

To be fair, on this “camping trip” we elected not to sleep in tents or trailers but to stay in a lovely home in St. George, Utah. As Jim Gaffigan proffered, “camping is what we did before we had houses.”

Still, the day activities outside enjoying time with family and friends reminds me that there are far more important things in life that deserve my attention than a job. Yes, I need to work to provide for my family, but work often becomes far too important a thing.

D. Todd Christofferson recently wrote, “One can find real satisfaction in a profession, vocation, or service, and all of us are benefited by what devoted and talented people in many fields of endeavor have accomplished and created.” He continued with a caution, “Still, it is possible that devotion to career can become the paramount focus of one’s life. Then all else becomes secondary.”

His statement stung just a little, because there have been times in my life when I have given up far too much time with family for the sake of work. I have allowed myself to be taken advantage of by my employers who are avid proponents of the idea that “pizza is great compensation for free work.”

As I listen to the birds and the muted conversations of people walking by as they enjoy the pristine morning, I’m reminded that enough is worth striving for.

I could go off on a diatribe about how we consistently undervalue what we do, for today, this is enough.

---

¹I’m a believer that if the whole world would listen to the music of Gentri, we would have world peace. Head to YouTube or your favorite streaming service and listen to “Enough”, “Don’t Let Go,” and “Home” by Gentri, in that order. If you’re not weeping by the end, listen again.

²Eve Arnold has a profound way of reminded me of what should be obvious. I’m approaching my 50th year, but am not too old to think I can’t learn something from a 30-year-old “youngster.”

Why It's Hard to Serve Others

Photo by Fernando Venzano on Unsplash

Hurricane Katrina pounded the US Gulf Coast with relentless ferocity for 8 days in August of 2005. It caused an estimated $125 billion (or more) in damage — including the destruction of 300,000 homes — across 90,000 square miles of Louisiana, Mississippi, and Alabama. More than 1,800 people lost their lives during the storm.

The White House Office of Faith estimated that 550,000 volunteers flocked to the area in the hours, days, and weeks following the storm. In the second year following the storm, another 50,000 people were added to that number as people continued an unparalleled show of support for those impacted by the worst hurricane in recorded history.

I live in a city 1,700 miles from the hardest-hit area, yet organizations near where I live were the first to respond with relief supplies. 14 semi-loads of food, water, and other life-sustaining items were deployed within hours of the call for help with millions of dollars of additional supplies and tens of thousands of volunteers to follow.

It’s one of those periods in US history that reminds me what has made the United States of America such a wonderful place to live. The selfless service given by so many inspired and humbled me.

I remember watching from afar, wishing I had the kind of job where I could just drop everything and go help in a crisis.

It’s true that grand gestures of service like this require a measure of sacrifice from the giver. Given the numbers involved, it’s possible, even likely, that some among the ranks of volunteers quit or lost jobs because of their service.

On an unusually warm day in October, my youngest son played his last basketball game of the season. We arrived a few minutes late, and as we approached the school where he plays, a woman approached behind us carrying a large number of items awkwardly perched in her cradled arms. I pulled the door open and stepped aside to let her in, quickly following her to open the second door.

“Thank you,” she said. “I definitely couldn’t have done that today.”

Of course, if I hadn’t been there, she would have figured it out. People have a remarkable ability to conjure solutions to problems on the spot. I’ve been in her situation before, and have carefully used my foot to hook the door handle and fling it open. She also had the option of setting her load down, opening the door, then holding the door with her body as she collected her water bottles, blankets, and purse.

The service I rendered is less remarkable than the service rendered by those 600,000 people who served the victims of Katrina. It’s the apparent disparity in the luster and publicity of the service that often causes us to lose sight of the fact that opportunities to serve others abound every day.

I didn’t save that woman’s life by opening the door for her but I did make her life a little bit easier for a brief moment. Service, after all, is simply an act of helpful activity.

Mahatma Gandhi’s quote, “The best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in the service of others” is probably the most quoted statement on service ever spoken. I also like this statement from Charles Gill, “There are many wonderful things that will never be done if you don’t do them.” And, for those who believe in God, the words, “When ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God”¹ will likely resonate.

The reality is that service isn’t hard. What can be hard, at times, is recognizing when we’re actually serving someone else. We look at service given during terrible disasters and lose sight of the fact that service opportunities exist everywhere. We serve coworkers when we go out of our way to compliment them. We serve family members when we pick up a dish that they left on the counter. We serve neighbors when we say hello to them on the street or stop to talk to them in the grocery store. We even serve others when we choose not to engage in conflict even when their opinion differs from ours.

In the past, I’ve engaged in meaningful reflection on my day which included two important questions:

• What is one way that someone served me today?
• What is one way I served someone else today?

In my reflection, I would take a minute or less to write down the answers to those two questions. I was often surprised by the thoughts that came to mind.

One notable example occurred a few years ago when I was on an early morning run with a friend. We were talking about things of great importance to us. Something my friend said pulled a core memory from deep in my mind that struck a surprisingly tender chord. Turns out, running hard and crying harder don’t go well together. I ugly-cried in front of my friend; something that few people have witnessed. I was momentarily embarrassed for myself until I remembered how much my friend loved me. Embarrassment fled faster than we had been running, as we paused on that dark stretch of road.

That experience became a new core memory for me. I’ve reflected back on and written about that moment many times.

My friend had no idea that his comment would stir so profound a response from me. After that, he didn’t have to say anything. His presence alone was a simple, yet remarkable, act of service.

If you’re struggling to recognize the service you give for what it is, I invite you to take on the two-question challenge and ask yourself every day, “what is one way that someone served me today” and “what is one way I served someone sle today.” I think you’ll be surprised just how often you’re touched by the small and simple things of everyday life.

¹ The original text for this quote can be found here.

A Mark of True Leadership

 

Photo by Daniil Silantev on Unsplash

I realize the title of the article is a bit on the nose since I’m going to talk about a great leader I knew named Mark, but the opportunity was just too good to pass up.

Mark was an unassuming man, a carpenter by trade. He was also the leader assigned to our little group of scouts with the Boy Scouts of America when I turned twelve. I joined the troop, excited at the prospect of becoming an Eagle Scout as fast as I could.

Mark loved his profession, and while he didn’t make buckets of money doing it, he was good at it. His quiet nature belied the fact that he had the physical strength and mental fortitude to accomplish just about anything he put his mind to.

In our area, there were a lot of boys that belonged to our troop. Mark, along with two assistants, planned and carried out innumerable activities for our band of misfits. To the best of my recollection, at its peak we had something like twenty boys in our troop. That was probably small compared to some troops in other areas of the country, but our group also met four times more than other troops and mixed in camping almost every month.

Mark and his assistants pulled that off while maintaining their employment and still finding time for their own families. Mark, in particular, had a young family that needed his time and attention.

Back then, the BSA worked hard to give as many young people opportunities to lead as possible. I think I was perhaps thirteen when I was asked to be the Senior Patrol Leader of our group. The Scout Handbook did a good job outlining responsibilities, but it took leaders like Mark to really help a boy learn what to do.

Mark and I met roughly once a week with either of his two assistants so I could learn about my duties as the Senior Patrol Leader. A young man’s responsibilities were tailored to the capacity of a person with little to no leadership experience; one who may not even have any natural leadership ability. The responsibilities were designed to help young men grow into those roles. It was usually about the time a person got good at it that the responsibility was given to another young man.

It seems that we’re all anxious to be heard these days, and people who are placed in positions of authority often feel the need to do whatever it takes to enhance their own position. None of us likely has to think hard to come up with examples of people who use others as stepping stones to achieve their own aims.

People like Mark are becoming increasingly hard to find. Mark was the kind of guy who exemplified the notion that a true leader does what they can with what they have to help other people become better.

Mark didn’t have much by way of financial means, but he gave his best efforts to building up the people around him. In particular, he expended tremendous energy to help young men gain practical leadership experience.

There’s a closely related trait that real leaders have, and that is they rarely seek personal attention or gain for their accomplishments. They just quietly go about doing what they see needs to be done. In particular, as he supported the young men in our troop, Mark helped to create and nurture leadership qualities in each of us.

Mother Teresa said:

Not all of us can do great things. But we can do small things with great love.

Consciously or otherwise, that’s a sentiment that I’m sure Mark patterned his life after.

While I haven’t thought about Mark in years, jotting down this little missive reminded me that his influence helped established a pattern in my life for how I’ve approached a number of leadership opportunities. Mark taught me that leaders don’t need to shout to be heard. Real leaders are the kind of people who elevate themselves by lifting others.

Ownership Is Accountability, Not Control

 

Photo by Jippe Joosten on Unsplash

Years ago, I was in a Central American country as a member of a large volunteer organization. We had strict rules about where we could go and do while we were there, and sightseeing wasn’t generally on the approved list of things to do.

One day, I was driving a carload of people from the organization around the capital city. Knowing there were some amazing landmarks only a few blocks away from where we were, I decided a quick detour wouldn’t hurt.

Those few blocks happened to take us into an area of the capital where we were not allowed to go.

A few minutes later, we pulled up to the National Palace and everyone jumped out of the van. We all took turns climbing up on a small security post, getting a picture in front of the historic structure, then we piled back into the van and went on our way.

Of the twelve or so people in the van, my friend and I were the only ones who knew we weren’t supposed to go near the historic district of the capital. The two of us made the great miscalculation of telling the other ten not to mention it to our group leader — a man we referred to as El Jefe (the boss) — that we’d gone to the national palace because it was in the off-limits area.

The existence of off-limits areas was as much for our own safety as anything else. Strict adherence to the rules was also paramount. Almost as soon as I told them we weren’t supposed to be there, whispers started drifting to the front of the van.

One of our group finally spoke up. He said the right thing to do was to let El Jefe know what we had done.

I was immediately sick to my stomach because I knew what they would all say: that I had knowingly taken them outside of our allowed travel zone for the sake of getting some pictures.

My friend and I were the only ones left in the van when a message came over our pager from El Jefe (yes, this was in the days of pagers) that we needed to return to the office immediately.

For our group, the consequences of breaking rules ranged from gentle correction to being sent home before our volunteer time was complete.

My friend and I were almost certain that this particular violation, and the “tone” of El Jefe’s message, would be grounds for both of us getting sent home.

My stomach was twisted in knots when we arrived at the office. The elevator ride to the fifth floor of the office building was one of the longest rides of my life.

No sooner had we opened the main office door than we heard El Jefe shouting for us to come to his office.

With our heads down, we walked into his office, assured our travel papers would already be in process.

“Look at me.” He said, sternly.

It took me at least twice as long as the elevator ride to lift my gaze to meet his.

One relevant side note is that I had been working with El Jefe for a long time, and I respected him deeply. I never wanted to do anything to disappoint him because his approval meant everything to me.

My eyes met his. I was the instigator, so I knew whatever the punishment, I would bear the brunt of it.

“I’ve got a bunch of guys out there who feel terrible about breaking the rules.” He said. “Don’t ever do that again.”

That was it. He didn’t say another word. He just returned to whatever he was doing before we came into the office.

Stunned, we walked slowly back to our van and returned to our apartment.

I continued working closely with El Jefe for almost a year after that experience and he never brought it up again. He never used that experience to remind me of the importance of following the rules or of my “failure.”

As part of that volunteer organization, I had certain assigned responsibilities. I knew what was expected of me, and El Jefe only got directly involved when he needed to.

He had high expectations of me and gave me his complete trust. He also never asked me to do anything he wasn’t willing to do himself. Because of the rugged terrain of the country, as volunteers moved around, I was often assigned to pick them up from bus stations in the middle of the night. It didn’t matter the time of day: if I was up, I knew El Jefe would also be awake. That single fact gave me a lot of confidence because I knew, in an emergency situation, he would always be available.

El Jefe understood well what it meant to lead by accountability rather than control. Training for my responsibilities came with implicit understanding of the accountability associated with those responsibilities. After that, he focused his efforts on the things for which he was accountable and let me do my part. He rarely intervened in anything unless I asked for his help.

It’s been a lot of years since that experience. I know I disappointed El Jefe that day, but he never shamed me. What I learned from that experience is the trust that El Jefe placed in me. He wasn’t controlling, and he never used fear or micromanagement to get what he wanted. He made it clear that I owned my responsibilities and that I was responsible for my actions.

If I can be so cliché for a moment. Leadership isn’t about having power over others; it’s about empowering them through clear expectations and accountability. El Jefe gave me room to take the training I had been given then grow into my responsibilities. Of course, he knew I was going to screw it up sometimes. It’s interesting that his approach gave me a sense of responsibility that carried a lot more weight than punishment ever could.

Accountability isn’t about control. It’s about creating a space with well-defined boundaries — founded on trust — in which a person can thrive and grow.

That’s real leadership.