I am not sure that I have anything of value to write here, but when you turn 42 it is tough to turn down the chance to write something with the title above (it is a reference to The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, a book I haven’t read but did see the 2005 movie starring Martin Freeman and Zooey Deschanel). Spoiler alert: I have not acquired that cosmic answer.
I don’t feel like I have a lot of answers lately. Which is unfortunate because I spend a decent amount of my life right now sitting in hospital rooms being asked the question “What do I do?” I find myself saying things like “I don’t know” or “I wish I had some sort of magical answer to fix everything.” People figure out fairly quickly that I am not an answer man. I have suggestions, insight, and the occasional flash of wisdom, but I’m not going to be posting any social media content or writing books about what someone else needs to do.
But I hope that they also figure out that I am going to sit with them through the questions and all the emotions that come with them. At this point in my life, I guess that is what I am trying to do. Not just with people that I meet in the hospital but with whomever I find myself. I am just trying to be present with the people who are in the room. I am trying to leave the space for them to be who they are and I am trying to authentically be who I am; even when I am experiencing emotions like hurt, anger, disappointment, or other things from which I would shy to theoretically protect myself and others.
I have no idea where I am going. I have thoughts on where I would like to go but I’m becoming more and more aware that there is a fair amount that is out of my control. Besides, I am not where I thought I would be three years ago or ten years ago or twenty years ago. I just want to try and be a kind person in an often unkind world. I want to be a decent father, husband, son, brother, friend, minister, and whatever else; flawed and without all the answers but trying to grow each day. And I kind of want to let that be enough.
Years ago, I wrote something called “Our Stories Will Probably Be Small, But They Will Matter.” I have been thinking about that idea a lot recently and it is an ethos that I am trying to remember. So I’ll close this out with these words from a younger than 42 version of myself:
You and I will probably have small stories. That's the reality. Despite what some well-meaning person said, we can't do whatever we put our minds to. What we do likely won't escape the gravity of our social circles. But what we do matters. It touches people. It changes them. Thus every action in our day has the potential to help or hurt. As a Christian, I believe that what we do can either bring life or destruction, a glimpse of God's goodness or a cold, uncaring hell. Sure, we may not ever have an impact on a massive scale. But it matters. It counts. It is important.
So whether you write, teach, work in an office, pick up garbage, take orders at a fast food restaurant, serve as a minister, unclog a toilet, watch children, take care of the sick, and pretty much everything else, your story matters. I realize I am writing that for myself as much as anyone else, but I wanted to share that. Put your heart into whatever you do and try to be there for whoever you can. There will be times that you are discouraged and it can be massively difficult. But it still makes a difference. What you do matters because you matter.