The cure for dread

If you had to write a daily article, send it to an email list of tens of thousands of people, give a new 45-minute talk every weekend, while running a non-profit organization, while coaching a high-school golf team, while raising three kids, and still make it home for dinner every night…how would you do it? 

This is a question I wish I could ask my late father, Jeff. Because he did all that.

Me? I’m prone to dread. Especially when life gets busy. 

When I’m producing two or three projects at once, and when I have content to write and edit and post, and when pitch calls get put on my calendar, and on top of all that, when someone inevitably has a wedding, or when I have houseguests…I start to dread it all.

I have trouble making progress on anything because I’m so concerned with the possibility that I might have overbooked myself. I’m a deer in the headlights of a long to-do list. 

A few years ago, a few hundred people gathered for a memorial service for my Dad. He was respected in just about every community he found himself in. People drove in from all around the State to be there. They shared stories, and one of the common themes in all those stories was about how in-the-moment my Dad was. How present he was able to be with everyone, even with all his responsibilities.

This struck me recently. When I think back on my Dad, and how he managed his life, I realize he was always busy. But he was rarely “out of it.” During the 45 minutes we had to sit down and eat dinner, he sat down and ate dinner. He talked and joked and asked questions. Then, after dinner, when he had to “tackle a few things,” he would be fully present with that, getting his work done efficiently.  

It’s not that I dislike doing any particular thing on my schedule whenever my schedule gets busy. It’s just that the dread about the next thing steals the presence and joy from the current thing. 

I’ve been trying this recently: presence. Not as a way to escape the obligations in front of me. But as a way to enjoy them. Because if I cane fully present, lost in a flow-state, with whatever I’m doing at the moment…then there’s no time left to worry about the next thing. 

Thanks Dad.

P.S. If you’re a golfer, and are interested in Jeff’s writing about the intersection between faith, golf, and life, you can read more here.