This re-post from 2009 is designed to give you some context for a post coming later in the week.
The Moment
I know many are in goal-setting overload right now and as a follow-up to Tuesday's post, I'm going to chime in. Just not in a way you might expect. Here goes:
Don't set any goals for 2013.
The reason is quite simple. Until you have a moment, the moment, setting goals is more wishful thinking. You may feel better that you created a list or have a feeling of temporary validation, but it will fade. Trust me.
In my own journey I have found myself confronted with "the moment" multiple times, even when I didn't want to. The moment is a place and time where there's no more BS and there is the appearence of a crossroads. Sometimes it's life and death, sometimes it's a place where I've been humbled. Either way, the bridge was burned and change was waiting just beyond the flames and embers.
In 2004, my dad had an aortic aneurysm. It was caught in time and they operated to quickly address a very dangerous condition. My dad didn't tolerate anesthetic very well, so his recovery from surgeries could be dicey. On the day of the surgery, my mom called me at work to tell me that he wasn't coming out of the post-surgery anesthetic well and the doctors were concerned.
I went to the hospital that day "put out." I wondered how bad could it really be. You see, I was in a place of prosocuting my dad for his past sins. And I thought this was just another situation to get through. Besides, his sins were the real issues.
I entered his hospital room and found myself surprised and disarmed. He looked so fragile and vulnerable. Not the man I grew up watching. The moment had come. I felt like God was right next to me whispering "it's time to rest your case and forgive." The moment. That set forth a process of learning how to forgive and accept forgiveness. My dad passed away 5 years later.
You should also know that I spent time setting goals around my relationship with my dad in the preceding years. Multiple years of resolving and planning. You know the drill, "I will have breakfast once-a-month, I will go to a baseball game, I will invite him to, the list goes on. I never did it because there was never a moment.
I have learned some valuable lessons in the last few years. Two of the most important ones are the need for the moment and that I don't have to wait for the moment to come to me. The latter implies that you can humble yourself and look at your life soberly and make the move. Regardless, without out the moment goals rarely stick.
You want them to stick.
What God Takes Away
Thought about my dad today and what God takes away. Certainly that implies that something, or someone, was given. I see that now.
As I was processing, I asked myself why I would still be writing about him. It has been almost 4 years now. For all I know, you might even be thinking why. Your first inclination might be to look at me as a grieving son or someone that has unresolved issues. All may be true, but I also thought of you. At the risk of sounding redundant, much of what I write turns toward you. As it should be…by way of experience.
Are you in a place, in the living years, where you can't resolve the unresolved? Still fighting, still fighting back what you'd prefer to forget?
I guess I feel that my process of dealing with my dad's living and dying was for a purpose deeper than the loss of a human life. I know that I'm not alone. On more than one occasion I've had people write me to say they've been watching my journey. We live in a crowded world, so if Ed says he was watching, then I know it was for a good reason. I guess this post is for those that have never raised their hands.
My gut tells me some of you may be fighting an un-winnable war.
In the vast majority of my life with my dad I was entangled and by the time I became an adult I was too arrogant and angry to resolve it. I was warned, but I pressed on. My mistake. I eventually did make it right, but man it seems like it would have been sweeter to get there earlier. Could be revisionist history or a longing to have a chance for a "do-over." I'm ok, though, I'm still moving forward. He is pleased, I know.
Ok, what's the un-winnable war:
- Anger toward someone (wife, ex-wife, friend, parent, etc.) that eats you from the inside out. Many times my wife and kids felt this with me. I have nothing to show for my investment, nothing.
- Resignation that it won't get any better. Damn it, most everything can get better if we let it!
- Making someone into someone they can never be. I spent years of hating my dad while trying to please him. He wasn't a bad man, just trapped in his own web unable to say and do something a son longed for.
- Pretending that love isn't in your heart. A form of protection I suppose. Ironically, I found out after he passed that I do love him.
- You don't control as much as you think you do. God has every right to take away, and we have the responsibility to make the most of the time we're given. Be careful here. Are you gambling that you have time? Are you thinking you can get to it later?