I cleared out more files yesterday and found these two gems. I figured I could combine them for a two-fer: Bow Tie o’ the Day and Tie o’ the Day. I must say I have no clue why I was attempting to climb into DHS through a classroom window. Nor do I have a clue who was there to take a photo of me doing it. But seriously, who breaks IN to high school? And look at the minuscule amount of weight I was lifting in P.E. How in the world could lifting that not-heavy amount of weight make my armpit sweaty? It’s a mystery.
The neckwear thing was merely a sometimes passion during my years at DHS, but that can be explained by the fact that teenagers are, by definition, not so bright. Teenagers’ brains haven’t caught up with their growing bodies. I was too stoopid to know I was in love with neckwear. I remember I usually wore clip-on bow ties on my baseball shirts to play church softball, but other than that, the wearin’ o’ the neckwear at events was sporadic for me. Still, it’s obvious the whim-seed was there and maturing right along with the rest of me.
Most people mature. They grow up. They learn to think beyond the next two hours. Some people do not. I remember there was a time I was young enough to know all the answers. I’m glad I grew out of being confident I was right all the time, before I did irreparable damage to my life. People who know everything haven’t matured, and often their knowing everything causes them to screw up their lives– and sometimes others’ lives. (Add examples from your own life here.) Successful, content human beings can admit to being wrong and making mistakes. They can admit they will always have much to learn from others and from continuing to participate in new experiences.
As I grow older, I can admit I know less and less about everything. And it’s a tremendous blessing. The pressure is off. I can roll with the world as it is, and I can also try to make it a more loving place in ways I believe in– knowing I don’t have to be right. “Right” lives next door to “perfect,” and I am not perfect.
Being intelligent is one thing. But deluding yourself that you, and only you, know all the right answers for every problem and every human being on the planet is a bigly, arrogant burden for a person to bear. Knowing the right questions to ask oneself and others– and to be content to wrestle with those unanswerable questions– is one of the secrets of living in joy.
Of course, I don’t know all the answers, so I could be wrong about everything I just wrote.
End of Sabbath sermon.