All in The Stuff That Matters
I woke up an hour earlier than my alarm this morning.
It’s probably related to the workload I have on my plate right now: In addition to the day to day responsibilities of running my own business, I am flying out tomorrow morning to attend Coffee Fest Dallas (yes, if the comic book people can have their own convention, then we coffee people certainly can as well!)
As a parent, I find that I learn so much from my children…
My oldest son, Garrett, has been asking for new soccer cleats for a while now. He is an avid fan and dedicated player, and the cleats he’s been using have had their fair share of punishment.
He had some extra birthday money, so I decided to take him and his brothers to Sport Chalet; the store is closing shop after many decades in Southern California, so everything in stock is massively discounted.
We negotiated the chaos of the parking lot, making our way to the back of the store where the cleats were. To our delight, there was a sign marking all cleats at 60% off.
We’ve all been there... Rejected.
I’m not talking about when someone rejects your outfit, or rejects your sales pitch, or even your resume.
I’m talking about when they reject you.
Growing up, I never cared much about being popular.
That is, until I hit junior high.
Then I had to have all the right brands of clothing , because I knew that if I was wearing anything that might be found on a rack at Mervyn’s, I could risk the danger of being socially ostracized.
So my parents would give me a clothing budget, and I would blow the entire wad onone pair of pants and a shirt or two.
I’m assuming I’m not the only one to have ever struggled with this question—does God love me? Is He proud of me?
Or when things don’t go as I would like them to—why does God dislike me so much? If that weren’t the case, things clearly wouldn’t be like this, right??
The more days on this planet that I experience, the more I come to the conclusion that stuff happens, both good and bad, and if I allow that to dictate my view of God (or God’s view of me), I tread some dangerous waters.
But even though I know that intellectually, I still struggle bringing that down to the heart-level.
I have a small confession to make: I wrote recently that the world is in need of more heroes. And while I still firmly believe that, I also think I’m wrong…
We don’t need heroes nearly as desperately as we need guides.
Think about it—without Yoda, Luke Skywalker is just an angry, misplaced youth trying to find his way. With him, Luke defeats the entire Empire.
Last night was simply… special.
To watch Kobe Bryant’s last game in a Lakers uniform was a transcendent experience that left me with tears trickling down my face as the final buzzer sounded.
For those of you who missed it, Kobe, in his final game of a distinguished 20-year career, scored 60 points, leading his team to victory after coming back from a 14-point deficit in the final 10 minutes. The crowd was electric, Kobe was exhausted; it was the perfect end to a brilliant career.
I recently found myself out in Orange County for work. As luck would have it, the café I had a meeting with was about 10 minutes from my grandmother’s house.
I gave her a ring the day before, and told her I had two reasons for calling. First, I was calling to say hi. Second, I phoned her to see if I could say hi in person the next day. I could hear her delight as I asked, and noticed her getting choked up as we ended our short conversation.
You see, I’m pretty sure my grandmother isn’t fully human. In fact, if I were to guess, I would put that percentage at less than 50%.
The other part of her is pure angel.
This time of year clearly provides us with a natural end accompanied by a natural beginning; something about midnight on December 31st seems to mark a new season filled with new expectations, new hopes, new dreams.
And often, we make New Year’s Resolutions a part of that transition.
They are often borne out of a measure of regret (perhaps spurred on by too many holiday cookies?)—things like losing weight, spending more time with family and friends, getting regular exercise, quitting a bad habit, getting out of debt, etc.
The thing about New Year’s Resolutions is, I never do them.
The Christmas season can be a bit polarizing, can’t it?
For some, Christmas marks a time of joy, where we celebrate the blessings of family and friends, offering gifts and treats, time and hugs; it is a time where we experience warmth, joy and child-like delight.
For others, Christmas serves as a brutal reminder of loss, where the “joys” of the season only serve to magnify the pain and suffering on the inside.
