Inaugural Address

So, here it is -- my first post. My internal editor is going crazy right now. It doesn't help that I'm not sure what I hope to accomplish with this blog. Am I going to try to be funny? Serious? Am I writing this for an audience? For myself? I don't know. I guess I'll work it out as I go.

I just reread that first part (internal editor, remember?) Man, this is going to be boring crap! So I guess at least one thing is decided -- I'll be writing for myself.

So anyway, I've been thinking lately about what it means to be alive.

Recently, my family and I took a long vacation and traveled across the country visiting friends and family. Everywhere we went we did things fairly spontaneously. (If you knew my wife, you'd know why I felt like I had to add the qualifier -- she's definitely an organizer, even on vacation.) We spent a lot of time outside and did more things in that one month than I normally do in a couple of years. We went four-wheeling, boating, rafting, swimming, and hiking. We visited national parks, museums, and local attractions. I read six books, just because I wanted to, not because I needed know what was in them. I took some risks just for the thrill of it -- minor things, sure, it's not like I'm Lee Majors (that's right, I'm old enough to have watched "The Fall Guy").

Coming home, I realized how arid my emotional life has become. So much of what I do in my life, I do just because I have to. It needs to be done. So I do it. Look, I know life isn't supposed to be all fun and games. And, besides, that is not really what I'm getting at. I know I lead a blessed life: I live in a country at peace; I've got a beautiful wife and four wonderful, creative, exasperating children; I've got my health; I've got food to eat; I'm well-paid; I don't have to beg on the streets -- I could go on forever.

The thing is, I want it all to mean something. Emotionally, I mean.

I'll be upfront with you. Metaphysically, speaking, I do think it all means something. I don't think this world is all there is. I believe we're down here for something. I believe there is a God who sent us here and who watches over us as our lives unfold. But believing that doesn't mean I always feel like it means something. A lot of times all of the high-minded ideals I keep trying to make a part of my life just feel like another checklist of things I've got to do.

Go to work - check.
Read with my kids - check.
Serve in my church - check.
Try to be more helpful around the house - check. (Well, sometimes, anyway.)
Serve a stranger in need - check. (Alright, I guess if I'm being honest, more often than not I'm more like the overly busy priest and Levite than I am like the Good Samaritan.)
Be a better person - check? uncheck? (How do you know?)
Take out the garbage - check.

Sometimes they get done, and, as you can see from my comments, sometimes they don't.

I guess that's the thing. There are so many things to do in this life, things that have to be done, that really don't matter all that much, they seem to crowd out the things that do. I mean, I wonder if that priest and Levite weren't just too busy to stop and help. They probably muttered under their breath as they walked by, "I'm sure he'll be fine. Somebody's bound to stop and help him. I'd do it, but I've got to get to the temple and burn things."

Going on that trip made me realize that I don't want to be that guy anymore. I want to do things that matter. I want to stop living my life based on the things I have to do and start doing the things that matter to me.

The question is, will I?