Like many of you, my wife and I are the parents of young children.  We wouldn’t trade these days for anything in the world, but it’s not an exaggeration to say that it’s 24/7.  We’re also self employed, and as our business and responsibilities grow, we’re feeling the pressures that come with filling every role from receptionist to CEO – while also raising a family, maintaining our marriage and serving our community.  I imagine many of you feel a similar pressure, so I thought I’d share this story.

The other night, after a string of tough days, we fell into bed, both of us almost asleep before our heads hit the pillows.  But in the stillness, as I tried to quiet my mind, all I could think about was how hard Jennifer’s day must have been with all she had on her plate.  I realized I’d spent my whole day taking great care of my to do list, but not taking great care of her.

(READ or LISTEN – your choice)

Sigh.

I reached over, took her hand, and gave her a little squeeze.  “How are you holding up?”

Tears welled in her eyes, and she said, “I’m okay… It’s just a lot, you know?”  I gently squeezed her hand again.  Then the tears came.  “Sometimes I just wish we could move to the middle of nowhere and get a cow.”  This is absolutely hilarious if you know Jennifer.

“We can, babe.  We can do that.  We can move to Montana and get a cow!”

She laughed out loud and asked me if I was gonna milk it.  The thought of me trying to milk our cow dried her tears and had her laughing just a little too hard, if you ask me.

“We don’t have to stay on this road, Jen.  Maybe it’s too much.”

She thought about it for a while, and said, “No… this is our road.  I know it’s where we belong…  I just hope it’s all worth it someday.”  I knew what she meant.

We laid there in the stillness, partners – no blame or hurt passing between us – but feeling the weight of what this short season of life is requiring us to carry.

And then the question came…

I looked her in the eyes and said, “How would you know it was worth it?“

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what would life need to look like someday for you to be able to look back on this season and say it was worth it?  What would life be like?  How would you know it was worth it?“

You guys, it’s a simple question, but I’ll be honest and say I’m not sure I’d ever asked it about my personal life – at least not like this.  I cling to benchmarks in my work.  And when I reach my goals, I’m not surprised because I’ve pictured the end product from the very beginning.  So why am I not projecting my personal life with that same kind of attention and detail?

If we’re honest, most of us would admit our personal goals are more like wishes than a forecast of what’s actually to come.  A hope, more than a plan.  So we keep running and running, doing and doing – trusting and hoping we’re on the right road.  We stay busy – life makes sure of that.  But are we effective?  Would we notice if we got off course, or are we so busy that we’re unaware?

Jen and I sat up, and for the next half hour, we talked about what life would need to look like someday for us to know that this present sacrifice and investment was worth it.  We talked about things like financial freedom, but that obvious stuff paled in comparison to the intangible things we stumbled on.  Who would we be?  What would we know?  How would we help?  What would we leave behind?

Since then, I see everything through a new lens.  Does this get me where I’m going or does it steer me away?  If it’s hard, but it gets me there, I’m in.  If it doesn’t, in this season when I have so little “extra” time and energy to spare, I might need to let it go.

If you could look into your present life from somewhere further up ahead on your road, would you sign off on how you’re spending your time and using your life – or would you recommend some changes?

How would you know it was worth it?

Thirty minutes answering a simple question brought us clarity and peace we really needed – and quite possibly saved me from a future milking a cow in Montana.

 

To say I played baseball as a kid might be a slight exaggeration. It’s more accurate to say I kept the bench warm and wandered around the outfield, watching the game being played fifty feet in front of me. I can’t blame my coaches for not playing me more. I wasn’t terrible, but I wasn’t great either. If the question was, “What can you do with the ball?”, my answer was always the same. “Not enough.”

It made sense to me…but it still hurt.

Athletes were our school heroes. I was chasing acceptance as much as I was chasing the ball. But my less than stellar efforts sealed my fate and secured my place outside of the inner circle and away from the cool lunch table. Still, for another shot at glory, I stuck with it. For five years straight, I kept showing up – hoping that someday I’d do something I’d never done before.

And one day, I did.

It was the bottom of the 9^th. We were behind by 2 points with two outs and two runners on when it became my turn at bat. It was all on me. I don’t remember much about the moment, but I do remember the way I felt. I wanted to crawl in a hole. I wanted to be anywhere but there. I even considered playing sick, so they’d sub someone in my place. I stalled as long as I could before approaching the plate, and I let the first two pitches go by, afraid to swing. Strikes. As the third ball approached, I closed my eyes and swung as hard as I could.

It probably would have been a single, but the first baseman couldn’t catch the overthrown ball – so I kept going. As I rounded second, I could see confusion in the other team. No one knew who the ball was being thrown to and no one called it. I ran on to third and got there just in time for the third baseman to catch the ball and drop it right in front of me.  My coach told me to stop, but adrenaline and nerves made me temporarily deaf and ballsy. I kept running, the third baseman close behind me, ready to trap me at home. At the last second, he tossed the ball to the catcher as I slid into home.

Safe.

What a beautiful word. Safe. I did it. It wasn’t pretty, but I did it. We won the game and I won my first and only game ball. A few games later, our season ended and I retired…a winner. Not because I’d finally tasted victory – but because of what I’d learned about myself.

Despite my best efforts, I was (and am) an average ball player at best.

For years I tried to change what was just plain true. But no amount of wishing or practice could increase my natural ability. Plain and simple, I’m not equipped. I don’t have the hand-eye coordination or the instincts needed to be great. I tried to dig deeper and hone something that wasn’t there. I told myself I wasn’t working hard enough. I compared myself to the best around me and beat myself up every chance I got for not being more than I was. But even when I got to the moment I’d been wishing for, it didn’t feel right. I didn’t feel right. A real ballplayer would have eaten that moment up. I was just glad it was over.

So I stepped off of the field. Finally. And that’s when everything began to fall into place for me.

Instead of going to baseball practice, I studied piano and eventually voice and acting. I attended a high school for the performing arts and won every state championship available to me. That earned me a scholarship to a great university. My reputation there caught the attention of music industry leaders, who opened doors for me I could never have opened on my own.  In the years since, I’ve had hundreds of home run moments. I just had to step off the field to get to them.

Albert Einstein is quoted as saying, “Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing it’s stupid.”  

I love that quote. I love the idea that each of us is a master at something – and I believe it’s true. But we have to let go of all the things we’re not and be led by all the things we actually are. We’ve got to back away from the tree and get back in the water. Honor is waiting, even calling out to us. But it’s reserved only for those who reach beyond what’s average…to embrace what’s extraordinary in themselves.

Are you swimming – or are you trying to climb a tree?

Do you keep showing up somewhere you know you don’t belong?

What can you do like no one else?

What’s gloriously true about you?

Where is your genius?

Now…what are you going to do about that? 

I could lie to you.

I could put on a happy face and borrow from inspiration I’ve felt at another time. I could pull out a book I love and repeat some version of what someone else has said. I could paint you a rainbow and hide the part of me I don’t want to give voice to. I could suppress what I’m feeling and protect what you think of me.

Or I could be a real person.

I don’t know about you, but sometimes I sure wish I could see the cracks in the people around me – especially those who are out in front, claiming to have the answers we need. Sometimes I think the best thing they could do is admit that taking their own advice isn’t always easy. How refreshing it would be to see a break in their relentless smiles for a moment. I think it would help me more to know that they struggle sometimes than to hear their “3 Steps For Getting Over Your Hurdle”.

So here I am – facing my own hurdle. I know the right things to think and say. I know what I’m supposed to do. I understand what’s good for me. But the truth is, right now, I just don’t want to do it. In fact, as long as we’re being honest, I might as well admit that I ate two cupcakes for lunch today. Boldly. I didn’t even pretend I was buying one for someone else.

Now, I’m not one to embrace a funk for long. I’ll get past this quickly – probably even by the time I post this. And because I know that, I was really tempted to lie to you and to hide from you. But if I share the best of me with you, if I ask you to rally around my words, if I call you to boldness and authenticity, then it feels right to be bold and authentic in return…even when I don’t want to be.

So what’s the lesson here? Well…maybe there doesn’t need to be one. Maybe it’s enough just to drop the facade with one another, to admit that we don’t always wanna practice what we preach. But I started this post privately asking myself, “How do I do this when nothing in me wants to?”. And I think that maybe I’ve stumbled onto 3 steps, whether I wanted to or not.

What do you do when you can’t find your “want to”?

Step 1 – Be a real person. Put away your rainbow and admit your weakness.

Step 2 – Allow yourself the freedom to gripe for a moment. You don’t have to turn in your optimist card, and you just might do some good in the process.

Step 3 – That thing you want to punt?  Go do it anyway.

Life is harder sometimes than we let on. It gets especially tough if you’re daring to do something big and bold. Sometimes, the pressure to perform perfectly will shut you down. When it does, refer to steps 1-3 above. And when you’re done, go take a walk with your kids or someone you love…and find your smile again.

What do YOU do when you can’t find your “want to”?  I’d love to know what works for you.

My friend Chris is a superstar waiting to happen. His voice is hypnotic. His style is unique. He writes undeniable melodies and words you wish you’d written yourself. Someday, his music will make him a household name – but today, in the meantime, Chris is roofing houses. Yep – you read that right. Roofing. Houses.

Not that there’s anything wrong with being a roofer. It so happens there’s a roof on my house – I love it! And I remember writing the check for that roof, so I know better than to pity anyone in the roofing community. But imagine, for a moment, Bono or Sting up on your roof and you might better understand my point.

A small group of us got together for dinner the other night to catch up. Towards the end of the night, I noticed bruises and scrapes on Chris’s hands.

“Buddy, what in the world happened to you? You’re so banged up…”

“Yeah, I know…It comes with my job.”

“Really? Then it’s time to look for a new job. You play guitar with those hands. You hold a mic and a pen with those hands. You gotta protect them, man…Isn’t there something else you can do?”

“Sounds nice to me. But I’ve got bills to pay and a family to feed. I gotta take what I can get. It’s not like there are lots of jobs out there for someone in my situation. I’d leave tomorrow if I could.  But…” He paused as he thought to himself, then continued, “I don’t know what else I could do.”

He made good points, even though I didn’t like them. I understood what he was saying and instantly felt ‘stuck’ with him.

Thankfully, our friend Mark didn’t. He leaned in, looked him straight in the eyes and said, “You mean, you don’t know what else you could do…yet.”

Dang! What a sentence – what a thought! I was so mad I didn’t think it first!

I watched as Chris’s whole demeanor changed. Instantly, pressure gave way to peace. Possibility took over and hope was renewed. In fact, we all just sat there quietly for a few seconds, taking it in, considering what that small, but powerful word – yet – might mean in our own lives.

Is anyone else out there waiting for someday?

All the love in the world to give – but no one to give it to…YET?

Your business is sinking and you don’t know how to rescue it…YET?

You’re in constant pain and your doctors haven’t offered any lasting help…YET?

Unfulfilled, unsure, ‘stuck’ and unable to move forward…YET?

Each of us has something we’re eager to get to, and something we’re eager to get through. Whether you’re wading through hardship or you’re a superstar waiting to happen, someday is coming – steadily and surely, day by day. Until your day gets here, don’t just settle in, accepting things how they are. Do the things you know to do, hold tightly to your hope and give yourself a break for not having gotten there…yet.

You may not know what to do differently today – that’s okay. Ask the right questions and the answers will come, right on time. The key is to never stop seeking what someday holds for you.

Come down off that rooftop and get into the spotlight where you belong.

What’s attached to your YET? What is someday holding for you? Comment below – I’d sincerely love to know. 

Never in my life did I think I’d learn a life lesson from an ExerSaucer. But I did…and turns out, it’s a doozy.

Twice a year, my wife throws a designer kids consignment sale in the Bay Area. This season’s event was last week and it was awesome!  The space she used was amazing…tons of natural light, beautiful hardwood floors, lots of foot traffic. It was nearly perfect – except for the back room.

The back room was dingy, even after we cleaned it. The lighting was gloomy – the paint, uninviting. It wasn’t a room you’d want to hang out in. Jennifer had hoped to not use that portion of the store, but the sale was so big she had no choice. She filled it with high chairs, cribs, rockers…along with 5 almost-new ExerSaucers.

For those of you non-parents, an ExerSaucer is the bouncy, twirly thing you put a kid in when you want to go to the bathroom or take a shower. They’re new parents’ secret weapon; their “in case of emergency” button – and at a certain age, the one thing they’d grab in a fire.

Over the next two days, hundreds of people shopped the sale, buying thousands of items. But through it all, the ExerSaucers remained untouched. I didn’t even see anyone lingering around them. It was so strange to me. I would have thought they’d have been among the first things to go. All these new mommies and no one needs some “me time”? Do you all have nannies? How will you get anything done? I was puzzled, but I began to reconcile myself to the thought that they just weren’t going to sell.

Towards the end of Day 2, the store was beginning to look picked over, so we decided to move things around. We cleared out the back room, pulling everything out into the happy space.

And that’s when it happened.

Not even minutes after we moved the ExerSaucers to their new home, a young couple stopped, looked at each one carefully and chose one to buy. Within thirty minutes, another one sold. And then another – and another. In less than two hours, shoppers had bought all five.

It blew me away. They went from worst to first in the blink of an eye! Really? Why? They were no less valuable or capable – no less good – in that back room. Yet hundreds of shoppers just passed them by. They overlooked them, distracted by what they felt in the ugliness – eager to get back out where it was pretty.

They needed the opportunity to consider them in a different light. And once they did, it made all the difference. They saw the value and they wanted it.

There’s so much to learn here. On the surface, of course it’s a lesson that presentation matters more than we think. If we want to sell something – if we want to sell ourselves, it’s up to us to present well. We can’t expect people to buy in – even if it’s a no brainer – until we do.

But there’s something more valuable here. The thing that has stuck with me is how resigned I was that it was over. Those ExerSaucers weren’t going anywhere. I’d accepted it. I mean, if they were, it would have happened already. There had been plenty of opportunity, but no interest. So I was absolutely shocked to see them succeed so easily after such a small tweak. I mean, I literally picked them up and moved them 20 feet.

But with that one small change, what was unlikely became possible – and what was possible became reality.

Where else could that be true for you and me?

Is our fate sealed, or is life waiting for us to not have our minds quite so made up?

Is it possible that a simple change could have a profound effect?

What if we took a look at things in a different light?

Perhaps our work could be more fulfilling.

And our friendships, more meaningful.

What if our marriages could be saved and even thrive?

What if we could make a great impact on the world around us?

Maybe we already do and just don’t see it.

Is your mind already made up?

Are you convinced of the outcome?

Do you know what you know?

Are you sure?

What might you see were you to take a step to look at things in a different light?