Of Regret and Goals

Over the past year of my life, it has been easy to slip into thoughts of despair and regret. I have been blessed with a body that has rarely failed me in my life . . . until the last year or so. Even then, it hasn't necessarily failed me, it has merely been less then par. There are few things that are more annoying then a sub-par body.

My irritation heightens when I take into account the absolute knowledge that there are certain types of injuries that are reserved solely for old individuals and that these are the type of injuries that I am experiencing. Why would I be sustaining "old people" injuries? This topic is most perplexing. Only in recent reflective moments have I discovered the truth. I am an individual of the "old" variety.

This has led me to periodically ponder the past. My physical ailments proved to be a springboard to a much greater study of all things in reference to my personal history. In so doing, I have found myself debilitated by the disappointment of regret. In many of my nostalgic episodes, mental lists are conjured up to reflect my squandered opportunities, bad eating habits, etc. I even trick myself into thinking that this is a healthy exercise because it will motivate me to do better. I spend many a day dreaming of the past when dreams were clearly meant to focus on the future.

And then, on this Sunday evening, I had a discussion with my wife about goals. She is well on her way to reaching a goal she set out to achieve, and it is very clear that she will succeed. I found myself encouraging her to go faster and harder, as it seemed she might be able to beat her own expectations of herself. We had some healthy back and forth until finally something clicked.

It seemed, at the beginning of the evening, that the best way to be motivated to do better was to be dissatisfied with what had previously been done. For example: If a person were cool enough to sell bottles for a living, but they sold only one bottle for a whole month, this person would be motivated to do much better because they had performed so despicably throughout the previous month. The example certainly lends itself to some truth, but, after our discussion, it became clear that this type of motivation is of the least effective variety. The better, and possibly best, motivation comes not from disappointment or regret but from a pure desire to want to do more. What is the difference? Alas, I don't know if I can explain, but I do know there is a difference.

Both the past and the future are dependent and hinge upon the present.  And, if in the present we look towards and focus on the past, we will then, quite literally, back our way into the future with thoughts of regret and disappointment constantly before our face.  However, if in the present, we face the future and focus on the possibilities and opportunities that lay before us, we can have all of our disappointments and regrets squarely behind us.   

By writing these thoughts down, I hope I have en graven them in mind, so that I can start to follow my own conclusions on the matter.  Truly, it is the action not the thought, that is the most difficult to accomplish.  Which brings me back to my beginning point . . . man is my body getting old.  I hope I can find enough energy in my rickety old frame to kick my crippled self into action.  The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.

Of Presidents and Purpose

President's Day arrived and I couldn't help but wonder if someday we will be forced to celebrate King's Day (said only in jest as we have been promised that will not happen on this promised land). The sentiment seems cold and callouses and yet strangely pertinent. The accepted interpretations of the constitution in our day seem woefully inadequate for a nation which was founded and has been sustained by the hand of God.

I printed off a copy of the Bill of Rights, planning on playing the motivational role of William Wallace. I would antagonzie and excite my army (my children) into a frenzy. They would be willing to go to battle against all odds and in terrible circumstances. I attempted to wow them with a speech about the founding fathers, principles of freedom, and unalienable rights. This was going to be inspirational! This was going to be epic!

Reality, predictably, proved a bit less dramatic. I made little to no impression with my first attempt. I even had difficulty getting them to acknowledge my presence. When they finally did notice I was speaking of something that was important to me, they merely smiled and nodded their approval of the topic. It was hardly what I had envisioned.

The second attempt was much more successful. This time I was successfully able to weave death and destruction into the conversation. I related to them the carnage of the Revolutionary War, the Civil War, and the two World Wars. "Thousands, even millions, of people spilt there blood freely for "this" piece of paper," I said this while pointing emphatically at the print-off of the Bill of Rights and the Constitution. My sons were semi-impressed with the death toll . . . but they were really excited and curious as to how I was able to get my hands on a piece of paper that millions of people had died trying to obtain. Needless to say, a backtrack in the discussion was warranted, and I quickly set them straight on the difference between ideas and physical pieces of paper.

I then, rather anti-climatically, spewed from my moutht the grand Crescendo, "The ideas on this paper are worth fighting for! They are worth dying for! Many have died for the cause of freedom and many more will need to! Will you, my sons, if you are called upon?"

My oldest is 6 rose to the occasion admirably and was more then willing to grab his "life saver" and go get the bad guys. My 3 year old, however, said he wasn't to interested in dying right now. And although he didn't add the "thank you very much" to the end of his statement, he managed to maintain a frighteningly calm and polite demeanor. When pushed, he finally agreed that he would fight to save his sister's life. Which was more then enough for me at that point.

Now . . . there are days when I hope that my boys will never see the field of battle. However, my greater hope is that they will have what it takes to meet the challenge when that day comes, because I believe it will. And when it comes I pray I can be there to march off to battle with them. This is not because I see myself as a soldier. Nor is it because I do not fear death. It is because I can't imagine a more gratifying feeling then to walk, step by step, with my sons, to continue in a battle that started before this world was. If we fought it in the preexistance then we must be willing to fight for it here. It is a battle we will fight forever, together. Marching shoulder to shoulder with my own flesh and blood, I would know that I had the full blessing of my Father in Heaven. I would know that my sons and I would be counted worthy in His sight. A noble cause to share with noble men. A purpose worth any earthly sacrifice.