In my head these days, the tune to country star Chris Stapleton’s “A Simple Song” is on repeat. This refrain keeps playing:
But I love my life
Man it’s something to see
It’s the kids and the dogs and you and me
It’s the way it’s alright when everything goes wrong
It’s the sound of a slow simple song
The volume was turned up today as I cleaned my office. It wasn’t just my office preparing for renovations, but also my soul.
As I dug into some treasure chests, I found images of a younger version of myself. I came upon prayer cards of loved ones, birthday cards and notes with handwritten signatures that are no longer written.
The more I searched, the more I found. Items that were once clasped in my then-younger and smaller hands. Collectibles that meant more than their face value. Reminders of forgotten days before, and most of all, a very grateful heart.
What struck me most of all was a collection of photographs. Some as a child, others from college, and even more from my days before I started dating my wife. I started to wonder what that younger self would say if he could see me now.
I trust he would say, “Man, I would love that life, and it will be something to see.”
You see, we all have a variety of dreams. They range in value, and they meet different needs at different times. Some feed the ego, some our true self.
I have plenty of dreams that fall into the ego category, or the false self. But the ones I hold closest to my heart, the one that is the answer to why I am here, the one that speaks to my truest vocations as a parent and a partner, is found in the images taken these days.
The photos now feature a toddler who reminds us of God’s love, and a beloved wife who provides an incredible strength and inspiration. When they smile in unison, I often stop and think “Man, I love my life, it’s something to see.”
One of my favorite shows of all time is The Office, and near the final scene in the final episode, the character Andy Bernard says, “I wish there was a way to know you’re in the good old days before you’ve actually left them.”
As I dug into my unexpected treasure chest today, I recognized again how blessed I am. You see, I have lived many good old days, and for the most part, reveled in the laughs, the friendship, the mentorship, and the growth-even when it was difficult.
I also recognize that these days, when I can say with confidence that it is “something to see,” I am very much aware of how good these days are and how I am abundantly blessed.