Do you ever feel like you are stuck in a reality that is suffocating your very life: that you are trapped and powerless to make the changes that can save you from the place that has captured your dreams and smothered your hopes?
You go to work at the same job you hated yesterday. You long all day for quitting time to get home–only to dribble the night away trying to grasp at illusive pleasures in a hobby or evening pass-time that remain ever dulled by the lingering knowledge that you will have to give up the evening’s quest all too soon, go to bed, and trudge through it all again tomorrow. “Please, God. Hurry the weekend.”
Let me introduce my daughter. She can help.
I have a wonderful daughter that has made great choices in her life. I am thankful. We have a great son in law–no grand babies yet, just a cute little rat terrier named Bambi of all things.
I have many amazing memories of my daughter growing up. Once, I awakened to an entire family size jar of Vaseline spread all over my chest, face, and hair and her loving little blue-green eyes looking at me, in my disbelief, as the reality of the moment became clear in my mind as sleep faded.
It took me two years to really enjoy an Oreo cookie after the little rascal had replaced the cream filling with tooth paste.
There is one that really stands out, and at the same time becomes a compelling look at the things that are truly meaningful in our lives.
When she was around three, we used to live in a two story house with one of those open stair cases. She used to LOVE to play this game that would make most sensible people cringe with anticipation. She would step up the stairs, higher and higher with each successive turn, and turn and yell, “Catch me daddy!” while she jumped with little regard as to how ready I appeared or not. Sometimes I would have to lunge half way up the steps to reach her in her jump. It wasn’t a game for the faint hearted. And believe me, she was never that. As long as daddy was there, she was too fearless for her own good.
Years later, we were living in a small single story home. The layout placed one side of the roof fairly low to the ground. There was a decorative brick wall at that same side of the house. My daughter was around nine or ten years old by then. One day we were playing with a Frisbee in the front yard. One of us threw it too high and it landed on the roof. “No problem,” I thought. “I’ll, just jump up on the roof from the top of that short wall.” So, I jumped up on the wall and placed my hands on the top of the roof to steady myself to hop up and then press up the rest of the way with my hands.
That’s when common sense kicked in. I had this really clear picture of not having quite enough momentum to carry me high enough; of my chest sliding back down the edge of the rough roofing; of missing the short wall with my feet; and of dashing myself all over the ground in several painful, hurtful bounces and bashes. So, I called for my fearless daughter to help.
“OK, honey. I’ll set you on top the roof. You go get the Frisbee and toss it down. Then, come back over and I’ll set you back down.”
It was a perfect plan. It was executed perfectly until . . . Until she had to come back over for me to set her down. Coming back down the roof proved to have a very different view of the ground than did going up the roof. She became terrified to come close enough for me to reach her to set her down.
She cried. I begged. She cried some more. I sternly exclaimed for her to “TRUST ME!!” This went on for several very aggravating moments that really tested my patience. “Why won’t you trust me? Come here. You can do it. Come HERE!!” She finally got just a little bit too close. So, I lunged and snagged her by the foot as she screamed, as I pulled, as she screamed, as I set her on the ground and exasperatedly finished it with “SEE? Why didn’t you trust me?”
I don’t remember if we played any more Frisbee or not. But, I do remember how much my baby had changed. My baby had lost faith.
Now, maybe I think too much. But this has become a compelling moment in my life. My daughter had just etched into my mind the sad story of many of our hopes and dreams.
I don’t remember failing her, but, somewhere along the way, common sense had over taken my daughter’s trust in my ability to catch her. She had moved from one who could lunge without concern to one who couldn’t even creep for fear of what could possibly go wrong.
I remember when I was sixteen. The world was mine for the taking. Nothing was out of my reach. Then, somewhere along the way, common sense kicked in. This has often fostered a sense of reality that leaves one wanting more.
So, how do we strike a balance between common sense, on the one hand, and releasing our greatest hopes and dreams, on the other? How do we make our reality a place worth living? Understand me. I’m not talking about some scheme to change our reality. I’m talking about reviving the kind of living that changes our SENSE of reality–that makes life worth living. We need an attitude for each day that fills it with opportunities for fulfillment as opposed to obstacles and road blocks keeping us from breathing the kind of breath that gives life.
First of all, a change of mind is needed. A common statement is very true here: “If you do tomorrow what you did today, don’t expect something different to happen.”
Ok, know this. I have seen as many unhappy christians or varied religious types as I have those of any other persuasion. The reality of living from day to day in a place that is full of fulfillment requires some motion and dynamic that isn’t only spiritual. Neither is it only philosophic. Neither is it only science or exercise.
As I think back to my daughter for help to know how to find joy there are several things that may help point the way.
First, she had a sense of abandon.
I think we have educated and directed ourselves down a road of cookie-cut life style and purpose. I wake to a routine that I know, to a drive to work that I know, to a job that I know, to people that I know [superficially], and to relationships that I know. The foundation these things lay, while very consistent and solid, becomes the rails on a hot-wheel track funneling me along into the mundane and dull. It may not be any greener on the other side of the fence. But, it IS the OTHER side of the fence. And that’s often enough. The hot-wheel wants to jump the track. It has to escape. There is no control over the direction of the track. “AaaaaaHHH.”
Second, she had no demands or expectations. Things just were as they were.
I’ve been trained. I’ve gotten a job. I’ve pursued a goal. I’ve operated as prescribed in a situation. Now, “I want what I deserve! Why am I not getting ahead? Why did THAT stupid person do better that I did? I did my homework! Where’s the payoff?”
Finally, she had faith.
Daddy had never dropped her. In fact, that wasn’t even a concept. It was all about the falling and the fun–of the attention and the joy of the moment. Just for the SAKE of the moment, in fact. Oblivious is a good word here.
So, how do we get it back? How do we get the kind of carefree back that makes what we do care about all full of the hope and fulfillment that it can be—that it has to be for us to truly enjoy life?
OK, how did we get like we are?
Pretty much, we are the product of what we have done, how we have thought, and what we have taken in over the course of our life times. Garbage in, garbage out.
These things are habitual. And while good habits are good–well, bad habits are bad. And, one might ask, “When does a good habit become bad?”
We aren’t robots. We have to live and breathe. Develop a habit of changing routine. Be spontaneous. Eat some place different. Even do something silly or uncalled for.
Next, look at the common things around you a second time. Examine it more closely. Don’t expect that you know it. Don’t describe it before hand. Describe it again and keep it fresh.
My friend at work brought some Harry Potter jelly beans for us to try. They have flavors of dirt and grass and several things I won’t mention. It set me thinking. How did I know that tasted like grass? Well, obviously, I must have tasted grass before!! When? Do you remember when you tasted grass? Ok, maybe I’m not suggesting that you run out and taste grass all over again. But, maybe I am! Do the DEW.
Finally, like it or not. We have to get rid of the skepticism that has replaced our faith. There is a kind of naivety that isn’t stupid. Yes, there is a difference. Believe it or not, there is a healthy gullibility that keeps things fun and fresh.
Now, if you were trying to quit smoking, yet, never put down cigarettes or reduced how much you smoked, do you think you would ever quit? DUH.
So, if you get up tomorrow fully knowing what tomorrow holds, and treat tomorrow like you treated today and yesterday, what can you expect? DUH.
OK, tomorrow, let’s all get up and eat some grass! Well, anyway, lets step back from each moment that comes and redefine it. Let’s try something new. Let’s do something that wasn’t expected. Even if you can’t put into words exactly what it means for every situation, I think “Do the DEW” says it pretty well.
Have some faith.
Regards.
PS. I know “do the DEW” isn’t the best way to put it. It’s just that all that craziness and jumping out past the normal day that they use on those commercials is encapsulated into that one little statement. So, forgive me if you think I’m being trite.
