I hadn’t talked to him in years, but an opportunity presented itself, and I knew he would benefit. Flipping through my phone, I didn’t see his contact, so I set out to comb the internet. My search engine sleuthing suddenly stopped when I saw the headline. Someone murdered his daughter.
There he sat interviewing with a reporter, tears in his eyes, reflecting on the loss of his child. They always had differences, leading to oscillating periods of closeness and friction. We never got close enough for details to emerge, but I gathered that they hadn’t spoken at all at times.
When I knew him, she lived close by in a house he owned. Somewhere between the father of her children and the next zip code, she stopped and realized her father loved her. So she came home, and he sacrificed the rent intended to supplement his retirement for his daughter’s safety. A trade any father would make. No question.
Sometime after we lost touch, she moved out in another attempt to make it on her own. Her re-entrance into her adult life resulted in her early death at the hands of a man I doubt she knew that well. Domestic violence, true domestic violence, claimed another life. She left behind two kids, and I don’t remember them very well.
What I do remember is him. He had turned down a promotion as he saw the demands of military life taking its toll on his family. The older kids had missed the truly difficult times due to their age, but his youngest daughter always competed with his work for attention. If you read much on emotional intelligence and the role it has on children, you know that young girls don’t get violent for attention. They get pregnant.
In a heroic attempt to save her, he left behind his life’s work and a rightly earned honor to pursue a simpler, slower life. He saved, pursued, and dumped every bit of effort into his family that his job, a demanding and worthy one, once stole from them. It seems that sacrifice only served to earn a few more years with her. Yet, I’m sure he would make it all over again.
As I look at my own daughter, I realize that I have him to thank for the cautionary tale. Attention is a commodity like time or money, and it has to be invested wisely. In the best case scenario, misallocations of that resource results in annoyed wives, but in the worst case it can bring about the untimely funeral of a child.
Set Priorities
Self-awareness and honesty should always be a consideration. Am I doing this because I truly believe there is no one else that can do this mission critical task? Or do I simply enjoy being the hero? I ask myself that question on a regular basis. Sometimes I am the only one that can do something, but many times its an undisciplined, unchecked assignment from my pride. It’s not on me to save the world, just my family.
As a Christian, my priorities are simple: God, Family, and the rest of the world. However, as a broken man, living out that simplicity can often be difficult. Every day is a struggle to say no to someone else, to scale back ambitions, and to find the realistic threshold of the possible. I just like to push the envelope too much, yet we all have our growing edges I suppose.
In the end, priorities don’t serve you; they serve those who depend on you. Knowing your place on this side of the dirt helps you keep ambition in check, and simplicity helps you live out your true purpose. For me, as a father and husband, only two individuals get preference, though I often fail them. Still working on that.
Checking Work
I recently heard an old priest call overworking a lack of discipline. It stopped me in my tracks and perked up my ears. I had to understand where he was coming from, so my attention took on a laser-like focus. I respect him and know myself. Any advice he may give could help.
Essentially, he went on to say that the lazy merely expressed their lack of discipline in a more energy-efficient manner, but the workaholic suffers from the same malady. Like a serpentine belt that frays and fails, it doesn’t matter where the fraying begins; it’s still a broken belt. Whether it is a lack of discipline in the commencement of work or the lack of discipline in its cessation, the principle failure is not having the discipline to live a rightly ordered life.
I’m guilty of this. Many times, I let my priorities get out of whack, and I spend far too much time outside of work on work. Even if it only manifests in my thought life as I stare into the abyss and work out tomorrow's problems, ultimately, it is a misallocation of resources. Men of purpose are driven, but it's easy to misplace that drive when their cause is just and honorable.
Digital Discipline
We live in an era where the confines of the office stretch into our pockets through our phones. The other night, I got an email long after the office was closed. Sometimes, I get these emails at two or three o'clock in the morning. When there is an airplane on fire, or someone is near death, that is excusable, but marketing requests have no place in my inbox in the early hours of the morning. Have some digital discipline and wait until business hours.
It’s easy to have an undisciplined mind because mine’s the worst. However, the primary feeder of that beast is a small screen constantly beaming at the next good idea that needs to be researched. While our phones are fantastic tools, they can also be one of the biggest cancers in our family lives. After about two weeks of running down my screen time, I will tell you the modern smartphone is toxic in this regard.
It’s easy to miss the little joys and cries for attention right in front of you. Murphy coughs to get me to look up from whatever I do. I look up at her every time she does it, and she smiles and laughs. I want to make sure coughing is all she has to do to get my attention. No need for funerals around here.
Hone The Edge.
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