Greatness

I met with a group of old friends recently for lunch. When the chatter died down, plates pushed away, a question was asked that created a silence at the table that was deafening.

"What's the greatest thing you've ever done?"

There's nothing like asking a bunch of middle-aged men such a question. For some, memories of high school championships and college conquests come to mind. Others were thrown again to the demons of despair at the thought they've never accomplished anything great. Then there was, "Bruce." He didn't stop eating long enough to be able to hear any questions, or utter anything that a human could discern as language. Sometimes I wish I could be a, "Bruce," focused completely on chicken-fried steak until the plate is clean, then on to the next task with no hint of reflection. However, it's not in the cards for me.

I started to think about things in the rear-view mirror. I could take the fun route and talk about the wild times in college... No, I don't think ANY of those times were great in hindsight. I listened to the others and heard my name mentioned a few times in those old stories and cringed and laughed a few times.

I could talk about education or work experience. Neither seemed the way to go for my time at the round table, (it was actually rectangular, but we knights fancy ourselves sitting around ROUND tables).

What I didn't want to mention was my stellar stats for coaching youth football, or getting tossed from my son's baseball game while I coached him. Lord help me, never mention how great a soccer coach I was years ago. Four year old girls can be mean!

It was while I was listening to the others tell their tales I thought, "I don't know the greatest thing I've ever done...I'm not finished yet." Some tend to look backward more than forward. I don't know yet what God will do with, for, and through me. Sometimes, "great," can't be measured either. I look at life as a great internship, ending in a graduation to our new home created for us by the One who loves us most. As scripture tells us sometimes we fly, sometimes we run, and at times it's alright to walk, but all of those descriptions imply forward movement.

So I'll just keep going, hoping that I won't spend time figuring out how great life has already been. That question has an element of, "quitterism," in it. See there, I just made up a new word. I wonder what else I'll do today.