As I sat with my daughter Chloe the other night at our local Bob Evans, we laughed a lot about all the fun she had this summer – going to concerts, camping at the river and hanging with her crazy friends.
We also looked ahead at her senior year at Ohio State (which starts Tuesday), where more good times lay ahead – going to football games, coordinating events for student government, and hanging out with a whole different set of friends, who are just as crazy (my nephew Chase is in that crowd).
But…
There’s always a ‘but,’ isn’t there?
For Chloe, the question is about life after college. “What if my plans change?” “What if I decide to take a break before going to law school?” “How will I know if I am doing the right thing?”
These are not questions that apply only to school, of course. In a similar way, they apply to relationships, conflict, grief, faith and recovery. The fundamental question is always this: “Am I on the right path?”
I remember a similar conversation with my dad at Bennett’s Drug Score more the 30 years ago, when I was a senior at Miami. I only hope I offer as much guidance to Chloe as my dad did for me.
“Honey, you’re intelligent and responsible. When the time comes for you to make a decision, you’ll know what to do,” I said. “It just happens. Things work out.” The look on her face told me that sounded a little too simple.
And I’m sure it did. But very often in life when everything seems to be really, really complicated, things actually may be very, very simple.
It’s a lot like driving.
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IF, THIS EVENING, you were stranded on a lonely country road out in the middle of nowhere, with a massive thunderstorm pelting your windshield, you might feel paralyzed. You don't know where you are or where you’re going. It’s difficult, and scary.
But the only solution is to move forward, into the unknown, boldly and with trust.
Your car has headlights that allow you to gauge your position along the road. Depending on what you see, you can decide what you need to do. Maybe you make a turn. Or maybe you keep going. In time, you ultimately get where you need to be.
That’s the way it goes in life, no matter tough situation lies ahead.
That’s why an addict celebrates one day at a time. The dietician considers only a week, with a weight loss of goal of only two pounds, nothing more. They take things slowly, working progressively. A marriage counselor will suggest simple, basic goals – listening respectfully, responding carefully, acting lovingly – to help a troubled couple turn things around.
Ryan Wilhite is head coach of Springboro’s very successful football program. He does not emphasize winning. Instead, he and his staff talk about working hard on fundamentals, and letting results taking care of themselves. That good advice, because the Panthers have won a lot of football games.
Brian Bales is head coach of Franklin’s excellent basketball team. He does not pound away at the goal of winning league championships, as the Wildcats have done the last five years. Instead, he has branded a concept that has his team focusing on only one game at a time: “WTNO” – Win The Next One.
In Matthew 6:34, Jesus said, “Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself.”
Any way you look at it, the idea is the same: There is only so much we can control.
The pathway to personal and professional success requires a full appreciation of that very simple truth.
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I DON’T KNOW for sure where Chloe will be ten years from now. She’ll be 31 (I think she just fainted at the thought of that), and the odds are she will be a wife with at least one child. Maybe she’ll be a lawyer in Springboro, carrying on the Kirby practice my dad started in 1968. Or maybe she will have pursued a different goal.
But there’s one thing I know for sure, that Chloe will be successful. She is smart and hard-working, also personable and conscientious. Success is not defined by a diploma or title or certain level of income; instead, it has more to do with serving the people around you, and utilizing your talents to do that. She will do fine, I know.
One day we will have another dinner at Bob Evans. And I imagine somewhere in the conversation, I will complain about my golf game, which happens more and more as I get older.
“I’m not breaking 80. I’m not winning matches,” I will grumble.
“But are you practicing your short game? Are you playing one hole at a time?” she’ll respond. “Seems like you once gave me a pep talk about not getting too far ahead of yourself.”
And that’s when I’ll take a sip of my prune juice. I’ll smile at the irony.
Yes, yes. I will have gotten a taste of my own medicine. And I’ll love every minute of it.
"Can I get you anything else?" the waitress will ask.
“Just the check,” I’ll say. “Give it to fancy-pants over there. She’s buying.”