Where Are You Going?

An army chaplain tells of the time he was asked to preach at a church some 20 miles from the base. He took his family along, but had neglected to tell his six-year-old daughter where they were going. After a few miles on the road, she asked, “Dad, when we get to where we’re going, where will we be?” A good question! And one all of us should try to answer for ourselves.

Think of your life’s journey. When you get to where you’re going, where will you be? One year, five years, or even 20 years from now, if you keep heading in the same direction you are heading and keep doing what you are doing, what will your life look like? Not only vocationally and financially, but what kind of person will you be? Do you have a pretty clear picture of the way you would like things to turn out, or will you be as surprised when it happens as everybody else?

It has been my experience that most people do not spend much time with these questions. But as Henry David Thoreau once said, “In the long run, we only hit what we aim at.”

To live aimlessly is to waste this precious gift of life. But to live with direction is to live fully.

-- Steve Goodier

Image: Flickr.com/Peat Bakke

Filling Up Your Life

We can live a long time without thinking about such things as “meaning” and “purpose” in life. But happy and healthy living requires that we visit these words from time to time

I have heard that Ralph Barton, a cartoonist of a former generation, left this note pinned to his pillow before taking his life: “I have had few difficulties, many friends, great successes; I have gone from wife to wife, and from house to house, visited great countries of the world, but I am fed up with inventing devices to fill up twenty-four hours of the day.”

Whatever psychological problems may have afflicted him, Ralph Barton suffered from an empty life. He tried to fill it up – with relationships and things and busyness. He was no doubt successful in his work. And probably well-liked. His problem was that he felt his life had no meaning.

Educator Morrie Schwartz helps us put meaning into our lives. In Mitch Albom’s book Tuesdays with Morrie, he chronicles the final months of Morrie’s life, as his former teacher slowly dies of Lou Gehrig’s Disease (ALS). Morrie, an irrepressible lover of life, says this: “So many people walk around with a meaningless life. They seem half asleep even when they are busy doing things they think are important. This is the product of chasing the wrong things. The way you get meaning into your life is to devote yourself to loving others, devote yourself to your community around you, and devote yourself to creating something that gives you purpose and meaning.”

Do you want to be happy? Do you want a life that matters? Then spend some extra time caring for those around you. Get busy serving your community. Become a lover of people. I guarantee, your life will never seem empty again.

-- Steve Goodier

Purveyors of Hope

Are you one?

Have you noticed that you feel better around some people than others? You smile more in their presence and afterward feel a little lighter, a bit more cheerful? I think of those people as “purveyors of hope.” They help me to know that beyond every mountain I face there is a path...even if I can't see it from the valley. I need those kinds of people – those purveyors of hope – in my life.

John Chapman, born in 1774 in Massachusetts, was a great purveyor of hope in his day. In the early 1800's he got in on the opening of land in the Northwest Territory, as it was then called, of the new United States. He found small plots of land suitable for farming and cleared them by hand. He bought fruit seed in Pennsylvania every year and carried it to his many apple orchards, usually on his back.

When the trees were large enough to transplant, he sold them to settlers homesteading the West. Eventually, he had little apple orchards spread around what would become the states of Ohio, Michigan, Illinois and Indiana. Most people forgot, or never knew, his real name, and took to calling him Johnny the Apple Man or Johnny Appleseed.

Johnny was a gentle man with a big vision. He was liked by most people who knew him, the native Indians and white settlers alike. His vision was to spread the goodness of apple trees everywhere people settled. Apples, he believed, gave the promise of harvest and hope that the wilderness would become home. Every tree he grew was a symbol of hope.

Johnny had another curious habit. He loved books, but did not have the means to carry more than two, usually a Bible and a book of inspiration or theology. The books he chose were full of hope. Because Johnny wanted to share his books, he carefully cut chapters out of whatever inspirational book he had available and loaned one or two chapters to families that wanted to read, or simply needed a lift. He'd later swap those chapters for others when he came back through. In this way he spread some hope and encouragement wherever he traveled.

His grave can be found today in Fort Wayne, Indiana. It says, "John Chapman (Johnny Appleseed). He lived for others."

Johnny was a great purveyor of hope. This old world could use a few more of his ilk. You?

-- Steve Goodier

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You Are a Work of Art

But you may have to be broken before you're finished...

Edward Fischer writes in Notre Dame Magazine (February, 1983), that a leper in Fiji (or, more correctly, a sufferer of Hansen’s Disease) followed the leading of his twisted hands. He became an internationally known artist. “My sickness I see as a gift of God leading me to my life’s work,” he said. “If it had not been for my sickness, none of these things would have happened.”

As a young girl, Jessamyn West had tuberculosis. She was so sick that she was sent away to die. During that time she developed her skill as a writer and authored numerous novels in her lifetime.

That great author Flannery O’Connor suffered various ailments – lupus struck her at 25 and she walked only with the aid of crutches for the final fourteen years of her life. She noted, however, that this illness narrowed her activities in such a way that she had time for the real work of her life, which was writing.

Some people succeed in spite of handicaps. Others succeed because of them. I am not telling you anything new when I say that our problems help to make us what we are. Those who suffer often learn the value of compassion. Those who struggle often learn perseverance. And those who fall down often teach others how to rise again. Our troubles can shape us in ways a carefree existence cannot.

A story is told of an Eastern village that, through the centuries, was known for its exquisite pottery. Especially striking were its urns; high as tables, wide as chairs, they were admired throughout the country for their strong form and delicate beauty.

Legend has it that when each urn was apparently finished, there was one final step. The artist broke it – and then put it back together with gold filigree. An ordinary urn was thus transformed into a priceless work of art. What seemed finished wasn’t, until it was broken.

So it is with people. Broken by hardships, disappointments and tragedy, they can become discouraged and cynical. But lives can also be mended. Put back together well, they won't be just like they were before. Damaged pieces reassembled with a golden bonding of patience and love will help form a person into an exquisite masterpiece. It is as if people have to be broken before they can become whole and complete.

If you feel broken remember this – you are a work of art. As a work of art, you may never be finished, but that is the process of a lifetime. And your very brokenness serves a purpose.

Remember this, too: Every time you decide to mend, you become a little more complete. And a little more beautiful.

-- Steve Goodier

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A Powerful Question

A man driving down a country road spotted a farmer standing in the middle of a huge field of grass. Sensing something was wrong, he pulled the car over to the side of the road. As he watched, the farmer just stood there doing nothing and looking at nothing.

Curiosity got the better of the motorist and he climbed from his car and approached the idle man. “Ah, excuse me mister, but is something wrong?”

“No, no,” replied the farmer, “I'm fine. I'm just trying to win a Nobel Prize.”

“You are?” asked the puzzled motorist. “But how?”

“Well, I heard they give the Nobel Prize . . . to people who are out standing in their field.”

(If you were expecting my humor to get better, I'm sorry to disappoint.)

It's true that few of us will ever win a Nobel Prize. But that's okay, because being the world's best is not the point. Let me ask a different kind of question.

According to John Gardner, founding chairman of Common Cause, one cheerful old man asks a fascinating question of just about everybody he meets for the first time. Once they exchange names and they get to the part where one is sure to ask the other where they work or what they do for a living, he turns the conversation in a different direction. He asks his new acquaintance an unusual question. He asks a big question – an important one. He asks, “What have you done that you believe in and you are proud of?”

The question is direct and a little unsettling. It is not as easy to answer as, “What do you do for a living?” It requires some thought. When asked why he likes to pose that question, the old man responds that he doesn't care how they answer. He just wants to put the thought into their minds. He thinks everyone should live their lives in such a way that they can have a good answer.

"What have you done that you believe in and are proud of?"

As I search for an answer, my mind goes first to family. We've raised healthy and productive children who want to make this world a better place. Not that I've been a model parent – far from it. But I'm proud of them. I also believe in the life my spouse and I have tried to put together with one another. We both chose to work hard on our relationship from the beginning.

What else have I done that I believe in and I'm proud of? Several things, I hope. But one especially is the creation of Life Support System. For me it's always been about reaching out, and I'm gratified when others in our Life Support System family write and tell me how it has made a difference. In a small way I think we're helping to bring the world together.

How would you answer that intriguing question? It may not be a big thing. Perhaps it's something that nobody but you cares about. But it cost you somehow … you're invested in it. You probably will never be awarded a Nobel Prize for your accomplishment, but it was important enough to do.

I think this can be one of the most powerful questions we can ever ask ourselves. It causes us to look deep inside and, like the old man says, prompts us to live our lives in such a way that we can have a good answer.

Now it's your turn. You may want to close your eyes and give it some thought. "What have you done that you believe in and are proud of?"

-- Steve Goodier

Image: flickr.com/Piotr Bizior

Following Your Call

Image courtesy of Davide Guglielmo

One man says it really happened. At the conclusion of his medical exam, the doctor asked him if he would please call in the next patient. So, he opened the waiting room door and called, “Mrs. Colchester, please.” Then he left the doctor’s office.

He had walked some distance along the street outside when he heard Mrs. Colchester’s voice behind him, “Where are we going?”

She knew she was being called, but she misunderstood the intent. I wonder if she made it back in time for her appointment.

There are times I can relate to her. I, too, have experienced “callings” in my life, though mine have taken the form of callings to a certain vocation or a particular life-direction. And sometimes I’ve been confused about exactly where I am going when following that voice and just as uncertain about where I may end up.

It's an old-fashioned word, “calling.” It can mean a profession or line of work. Or even a strong inner urge or impulse. In my case, callings have led me to dedicate myself to something I believed I was meant to do in life.

Oprah Winfrey says this about callings: “I've come to believe that each of us has a personal calling that's as unique as a fingerprint – and that the best way to succeed is to discover what you love and then find a way to offer it to others in the form of service, working hard, and also allowing the energy of the universe to lead you.”

It is a satisfying thing when we feel called to a worthy purpose. How beautiful (and how rare) it is to believe we are doing just the thing we’re meant to do in this life. But is it realistic to think we must do THE ONE THING we were meant to do? How about doing ONE OF THE THINGS we are passionate about? Let me explain.

Consider a Swiss Army pocketknife. It is a multipurpose tool. It can cut, saw, file, snip and open up cans and jars. With it, one can turn a screw, pull out a splinter, pop the cork in a wine bottle and even pick one’s teeth. (My advice: never leave home without one.)

You and I are more like Swiss Army knives than butter knives or steak knives. We can DO more than one thing. We can LOVE more than one thing. We can BE more than one thing. Likewise, we may be called to more than one thing.

Like Swiss Army knives, we have options. Ours is to discover those truly worthwhile things we feel led to do and be – things we love, that are life-affirming and deserve our best – and then to commit to them, to give ourselves over fully to them and pursue them with joy. That is what it means to be called. And that is how to make a life count.

But beware of this about callings: they may not lead us where we intended to go or even where we want to go. If we choose to follow, we may have to be willing to let go of the life we already planned and accept whatever is waiting for us. And if the calling is true, though we may not have gone where we intended, we will surely end up where we need to be.

It is like an adventure. Are you ready?

-- Steve Goodier

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How I'm Like a Pencil

It occurs to me that I have a lot in common with a pencil. That’s right – a simple and humble little pencil. Not the fancy mechanical kind. That’s too high-maintenance for me. And I’m not as showy as a plume pen or as smooth as a ball point. I don’t live in bold strokes like a heavy marker. But I’m a lot like a pencil. Here’s how:

1. Like a pencil, I have a built-in eraser. I can correct my mistakes. No, I can't change the past, but I can make it right again. And if I can't erase history (after all, what’s done is done) I can at least erase a great deal of guilt and anger with forgiveness.

2. Like a pencil, I do better if I’m sharpened once in a while. My mind and skills grow dull without occasional honing. Even my spirit and attitudes need refining if I’m to be at my best. And there is something else, too. I find that the difficulties of life wear away at me, and they can either grind me down or shape me into a person who is more capable and creative. The sharpening I get from living through tough times is often painful, but I know it can make me a better person.

3. Pencils work best in a skilled hand. And like a pencil, I can do some pretty terrific things with a little guidance. Other people bring out the best in me, and with the help of others, I can do far more than I ever can alone.

4. Like a pencil, I should leave my mark whenever possible. I too often underestimate my influence on another. I have daily opportunities to leave something good behind. That is what it means to leave my mark. It may be in small ways, it may be in the lives of people I love, people I have touched or nurtured, or even in incidental conversations struck with strangers. But, I have a mark to leave and should use every opportunity to leave something good behind.

5. Like a pencil, it is what is on the inside that matters. A pencil without lead is useless. And a yellow pencil will not do when a black or red pencil is called for. What is on the inside is all important. My outer appearance matters less than I probably think, while it’s the stuff on the inside that folks notice about me. Whether it is understanding or intolerance, love or bitterness, peace or unrest, kindness or self-centeredness, hope or despair, courage or fear, what is on the inside matters most.

6. A pencil works best on paper or canvass. It will never leave its mark on water and will wear itself down against a mirror. I do best knowing my strengths and limitations. I can’t do everything well and that is okay. There is still plenty of good to be done by doing what I do best.

7. And finally, like a pencil, the biggest part of my purpose in this life can be summed up in three words: to be useful. When I’m too broken to hold it together, when everything is ground away or worn down, when I no longer have anything to contribute, I know my life is coming to an end. But until then, my job is to be useful.

Like I said, I have a lot in common with a pencil.

-- Steve Goodier

Image: freeimages.com/John Williams

Following Your Bliss

Who was it that said, “Follow your dream – unless it's the one where you're at work in your underwear during a fire drill…”?

Author Joseph Campbell’s advice was to “follow your bliss.” American painter Grandma Moses did that. She actually started painting at age 76, after arthritis forced her to give up embroidery. “If I hadn't started painting, I would have raised chickens,” she once said.

And I heard of a bus driver in Chicago who followed his bliss with some surprising results. He sings while he drives. That’s right... sings. And I don’t mean he sings softly to himself, either. He sings so that the whole bus can hear. All day long he drives and sings.

He was once interviewed on Chicago television. He said that he is not actually a bus driver. “I’m a professional singer,” he asserted. “I only drive the bus to get a captive audience every single day.”

His “bliss” is not driving a bus, though that may be a source of enjoyment for some people. His bliss is singing. And the supervisors at the Chicago Transit Authority are perfectly happy about the whole arrangement. People actually let other buses pass by so they can ride with the “singing bus driver.” They love it.

Here is a man who believes he knows why he was put here on earth. For him, it is to make people happy. And the more he sings, the more people he makes happy. He has found a way to align his purpose in living with his occupation. By following his bliss, he is actually living the kind of life he believes he was meant to live.

Are you following your bliss? When you do, you may discover that you are experiencing the kind of life you feel you were meant to live. And what’s more, you will be happy.

-- Steve Goodier

Image by Kevin Zolkiewicz

What Greatness Is All About

A school music teacher received this essay from an eight-year-old student concerning Johann Sebastian Bach: "He was a GREAT composer. He had 20 children and had an old spinster in the attic to practice on."

Actually, I don't know the exact number of children he had, but it seems to be quite a few. And I don't know what he kept in the attic...or what he practiced on. But the student was absolutely right about one thing: Bach was a great composer.

Not all of us can be great at what we do. I try to do some things the very best I can. But that means I cannot give much attention to some of the less important tasks.

But what about just being good at WHO WE ARE? Good human beings? Even being GREAT at who we are?

Author James Michener learned something about greatness on a stormy night in the South Pacific. His plane was trying desperately to land on the Tontouta airstrip but could not do so. After several attempts in the dark of night, his knuckles were white with fear. When they finally landed safely, Michener went out and walked the length of the airstrip, looking at the dim outlines of the mountains they had so narrowly missed. He wrote this:

"And as I stood there in the darkness I caught a glimpse of the remaining years of my life and I swore an oath when peace came, if I survived, I would live the rest of my years as if I were a great man. I did not presume to think that I would be a great man. I have never thought in those terms, but I could conduct myself as if I were. I would adhere to my basic principles. I would bear public testimony to what I believed. I would be a better man. I would help others. I would truly believe and act as if all men were my brothers. And I would strive to make whatever world in which I found myself a better place. In the darkness a magnificent peace settled over me, for I saw that I could actually attain each of those objectives, and I never looked back."

Michener says that the very next day he started to draft the book Tales of the South Pacific.* And if it can ever be said that he became a great man, I suspect it was only because he decided to be a better man than he was before.

Greatness may not be your goal. But you and I can be a little better today than we were yesterday. We can help others a bit more today than yesterday. We can act more deliberately -- as if all people are our sisters and brothers. We can leave the world a better place tomorrow than we found it today.

And if that is the way to greatness, then we all can head that direction. One step at a time…beginning today.

-- Steve Goodier

* Michener’s quote comes from Out of the Blue: Delight Comes Into Our Lives, by Mark Victor Hansen & Barbara Nichols with Patty Hansen (HarperCollins, 1996).

Image: flickr.com/José María Pérez Nuñez

A Life that Matters

They said he died.

One morning in 1888, Alfred Nobel, inventor of dynamite, the man who had spent his life amassing a fortune from the manufacture and sale of weapons of destruction, awoke to read his own obituary. Of course, it was a mistake. Alfred’s brother had died, and the reporter inadvertently wrote Alfred’s obituary.

For the first time, Alfred Nobel saw himself as the world saw him – “the dynamite king,” the great industrialist who had made an immense fortune from explosives. This, as far as the general public was concerned, was the entire purpose of his life. None of his true intentions surfaced. Nothing was said about his work to break down the barriers that separated persons and ideas. He was, quite simply, a merchant of death, and for that alone would he be remembered.

Alfred read the obituary with horror. He felt that the world must know the true meaning and purpose of his life. He resolved to do this through his last will and testament. The final disposition of his fortune would show the world his life’s ideals. And at that time came into being yearly prizes for chemistry, physics, medicine, literature – and the famous Nobel Peace Prize.

If you were to read your own obituary today, what would it say? Do others know what you stand for, what you believe in and what truly matters to you?

Dr. Philip Humbert asks, “What remarkable, extraordinary and amazing things will you do with this wild and wonderful miracle, your one and only life?” I believe that the question should also be asked this way: “What will you do with this wild and wonderful miracle, your one and only DAY?” For it’s increasingly clear to me that the decisions I make every day, even little decisions, will decide how my life will eventually turn out.

Hopefully, I won’t wake up to read my own obituary. But I have already begun to write it – day by day, moment by moment. And if I live a life that matters today, then my obituary will already be written in the hearts of those who know me.

-- Steve Goodier

What Do You Want Most?

You've heard it said that the best things in life aren't things. This truth is illustrated well by Andrea Jaeger.

At age 14 Andrea won her first professional tennis tournament. At 15, she was the youngest player ever to be seeded at Wimbledon, a record she held for 10 years. She won again and again until, at 18 years old, she reached the finals of Wimbledon. But at age 19, a shoulder injury brought her career to an end.

Her body was injured, but not her spirit. Andrea Jaeger no longer serves up aces on the court, but she is serving society. She has dedicated her time and money to bringing hope and joy to children who are suffering from cancer or other life-threatening illnesses. She runs her own organization full time, year-round, unpaid.

"You get very spoiled on the pro tour," she says. "The courtesy cars, the five-star hotels, all the people clapping because you hit a good shot. It's easy to forget what's important in life."

She forgets a lot less lately.

Her life is an example of what can happen when one concentrates on “what’s important in life.” It has been said that the main cause for failure and unhappiness is trading what you want most for what you want at the moment. And if the best things in life are not things, then what do you want most? What Andrea wants most in life is to help other people. And I'll wager she is fulfilled and happy because of her dedication to a purpose bigger than herself.

What if you traded what you want at the moment for what you want most -- if you remember what is important in life and try to do that? The life you build would be no less than incredible.

-- Steve Goodier


image: freeimages.com/Uschi Hering

Finding Your Note

A short story by William Saroyan is titled "The Man Whose Wife's Hair Was Too Long But Whose Understanding of Music Was Too Short." If you think the title strange, listen to this:

In the story, a husband plays the cello and never changes notes. He just continues to repeat the same note without variation.

His wife is driven to distraction and finally protests: "Why do you play the same note over and over and over again? Other cellists play different notes."

"Other cellists play different notes," her husband replies, "because they are trying to find the right one. I've found mine."

Ahhh, the beauty of finding your note! I think I could like him. Finding your note is something like finding your purpose in life or landing where you need to be.

Philosopher James Allen advised, "Above all be of single aim; have a legitimate and useful purpose, and devote yourself unreservedly to it." He could have said, “Find your note and stay with it.”

I believe that is an important part of being happy. Like Helen Keller says, true happiness is attained “through fidelity to a worthy purpose.”

In music, staking your claim on one note will drive everyone around you nuts. But finding the right note in life, and giving yourself to it, can be a source of unending joy.

-- Steve Goodier


image: flickr.com/Boqiang Liao