What Matters Most (Originally written July 20, 2007)

Right now, I am 2-1/2 hours from home by air (considerably more than that if I hop into a car and try to drive). Lately I have been so busy, that I am not quite sure which way is up. I work a lot and come home mentally and physically exhausted. Then, of course, there are the things I need to get done, the things I want to get done, and that's all before the "Honey-Do's"! I have home repairs, home renovations, yard work, you-name-it! There just aren't enough hours in the day to do it all. My job is stressful. Not so much that I can't handle it, but just more than I ever thought it would be. I mean, I have taken on a lot more than most guys my age (especially the ones I know) have ever even dreamed of!

So, I try to prioritize. 5:00 am, get up, shower, dress, quick peck on my sleeping wife's cheek and it's off to work! Stay there all day and do my best to make sure that the 40-some families whose livelihoods depend upon our success maintain that hope for another day. Then, I come home late in the evening and just want to sit down, close my eyes, and be left completely and utterly...alone. Grudgingly, I take care of a few things, but mostly my "to-do" list continuously gets longer and longer.

So, where does it end? How do I ever catch up? I don't think I will ever know.

Today is Friday, and a friend of ours has just died. I will fly home tonight and go to his funeral tomorrow. He was a good man. One that took care of his wife and family in a truly loving way. Now, I guess he was in his late 50's or early 60's...still too young to leave. That has made me realize that no matter how much time we are given, it is never enough. Now, I know I have to work so my family will be fed and clothed, but I need to find a way to give them more time. I realize that no matter how tired I am, my son still wants his father to read him a bedtime story. As trivial as it seems to me, it means the WORLD to him as he puts his little hand on my face and says "Thanks, Dad. I love you." Then, with tear-stained eyes, I crawl in bed next to my wife who looks at me, smiles and says "I love you, too".

Does anything else really matter?