M. Reali-Elliott's Blog, page 2

The summer we learned how to be a family

I have written a lot about the experiences my family had
last year as we made changes to how we went about our day-to-day. Yes, we
learned to find joy even when situations didn’t pan out in the most pleasant
way. Yes, we learned how to relax and just let go. Yes, we learned how to find
inner peace and happiness.

But mostly, we learned how to do those things in a way that
bettered how the other members of our family experienced them. For this to
really work as a family group, everyone had to be affected simultaneously or
the negativity would quickly spread throughout the other members.

We had always been a family in the sense that we were
related or partnered and more-or-less spent our waking hours together doing a
variety of activities. Everyone got along fairly well and knew their role
within the household.

But did we know how to enjoy those activities or roles, or
respect each other through the differences? Not always.

At the start of every break, my family argued and fought as
they learned how to fit in to the family structure again. The older children didn’t
like to do the “baby” things. The younger children grew bored in the “grown up”
world. The adults didn’t like the increased defiance or lackadaisical attitude
to making it through everything that needed to happen in a day. The children
didn’t like being shushed during conference calls or rushed to get more
accomplished. Soon, the break would be over and we’d go our separate ways to
work or school where things worked more smoothly.

That wasn’t true family.

We had to learn how to work with each other’s needs. That is what makes a family function best. Not simply co-existing or participating in group activities and outings. You have to respect each individual for what they bring to the family dynamic and love them through what they need from the family. This is crucial to make everything click into place.

For this to happen, we had to make a conscious effort to see
the good and let only happiness show, especially when it would be easier to
react negatively. Eventually, happiness trickled through to everyone.

We found joy in cheering each other through the tough times,
knowing that we were stronger both as individuals and as a group when we could use
each other for support. “Choose to smile” became our motto and we challenged
each other to see each silver lining.

The end result is that we came out as a healthier (though still
imperfect) family unit. We saw each other for our strengths and weaknesses and
knew when we could lean on each other for support and when we needed to offer a
helping hand instead. We grew in appreciation of each other as members of our little
household community, and that, friends, is what makes a family.

Plan for spontaneity

As the boys and I began to plot our summer, we fell back to
the great activity we started last year. We listed many activities to add
simple joys into our lives and folded them on paper strips that we could draw
at random from a glass jar.

This may seem like a simple, yet fun, way to plot your
summer, but for us, it represents an entirely different worldview. We had been
that stereotypical family that overplanned and detailed their days out far in
advance so that there was little wiggle room. The pressure to make it through
everything was at a constant high, and emotional burden from failed efforts
constantly nagged at us.

Last year, I knew my family needed to feel a change. We
couldn’t continue feeling constantly frustrated or disappointed or angry at
each other, all as fallouts from not meeting our own ridiculous expectations.
We needed a way to force ourselves to slow down and to take each day at a time.

I’m not quite sure where the idea came from, but I’m forever
grateful that we implemented it. Choosing our activities at random taught us to
be open to new experiences and to be spontaneous. The activities themselves
ranged from typical summer items like going to the beach, to things that were
simple, but caused us to remember the small joys in life. Think walk barefoot
outside or do cartwheels, anything that would give you a few moments to connect
with yourself and with your world.

Recently, I’ve seen some negative reviews about the book I
wrote to highlight how significantly our lives were impacted, and I have felt a
little down about that. I received so much encouragement as I told people what
had changed in our lives and what we had learned, but I know this comes across
much more enthusiastically in person versus in writing. I’m planning to address
those comments and change some story details so that it reflects this better.

But to be honest, as the boys and I read through our
activity strips from last year and thought about new ones we wanted to add, I
felt a renewed sense of purpose. I know that my family isn’t the only one who
struggles in this way and I still believe in the message I wanted to bring to people:
changing how we go about our family activities needs an overhaul and we need to
bring back simple ways of connecting and enjoying our time together.

Memories with children should be based on moments of joy and
not just ways to fill time, so the simpler, the better. As parents, sometimes
it is hard to recognize when we’re trying to cram too much in for the sake of
doing everything possible instead of truly immersing ourselves in something in
a way that brings peaceful enjoyment. After all, if you’re not happy running up
against a hundred deadlines, how happy do you think your children are?

My vehicle and vacation comedy of errors

I just completed a weekend trip with my mother and my sons. Visiting
her cabin on the North Carolina/Georgia border has become an annual tradition
for us. Another tradition that seems to repeat, though not purposely, is for
everything to go dead wrong.

It was recently suggested that where I aim to inspire, I instead
come across as complaining. While that opinion has merit, I hope that many
others see that when I tell these tales of frustration, they are meant to demonstrate
that it is possible to find humor in the face of ridiculous challenges.

In a backwards sort of way, I cannot stand movies where
everything goes wrong. I simply cringe helplessly while I watch situations fall
apart in the name of comedy. When it’s my own life, I take a very different
approach in an attempt to stay positive while I struggle my way through.

In an attempt to amuse you, and continue to assuage my negative
car situation, I thought I would share with you some of what happened this
week. Now keep in mind, I actually have a decent car. A family crossover
purchased about 6 years ago and still in pretty good condition.

Day 1:

I loaded my car up Thursday morning with the kids and all our stuff. When I arrived to my mother’s and she climbed into the driver’s seat, I warned her that my vehicle registration had still not arrived in the mail, but that it was fine because I had the emailed proof of purchase in case we got pulled over. She looked skeptical and suggested we take her truck, but we didn’t want to take the time to reload or crush all the kids and belongings too tightly together.

I also reminded her that my car doesn’t shift out of park
without having to use a long, thin object to push an internal level next to the
gears. “No, I haven’t fixed that since the last time we took this trip.” Whenever
I do this, my mind flashes to a NatGeo episode saying, “Monkeys often use
sticks as crude tools…” We haven’t come too far, really.

We set out at a fast pace and she warned me, “I really like
to gun it when I hit the road!” I ignored the bravado with a chuckle and said, “That’s
why you’re driving and I’m not. We’ll get there a lot faster.”

One hour into the ten-hour drive, she mentioned she felt hot.
“Is the air even on?” Turns out, no, it was not blowing cold air anymore. If I
haven’t mentioned previously, we live in Orlando, Florida. It’s a bit hot in
June.

We continued to drive through the sweltering heat as
temperatures reached 103*F/39*C. It really was quite miserable, feeling like we
were melting into the seat, worried that when the boys slumped out of sight
that they may have passed out from heat stroke. On the bright side, having the
windows down meant none of us could hear if the boys started arguing. Also,
sweating out all the liquids meant there were very few bathroom breaks.

She told me that she preferred to ride down the middle of
both lanes on our side of the highway so that the sharp mountain curves could
be navigated a bit easier, but as there was no traffic on a Thursday afternoon,
I let it go. We arrived, somehow.

Day 2:

My parents’ cabin is located in an extremely small town. There aren’t really car mechanics. I told her that when I was getting married near there this time last year, many people seemed skeptical that North Carolina and Georgia even bordered each other. Finding vendors was near impossible, leading me to the realization that booking important events in a place no one believes exists is a very bad plan. She found one mechanic, but decided that now we were in our more northern climate, we could tolerate the lack of air conditioning on our car trips. They likely wouldn’t get parts in on time anyway.

We start noticing odd things about the sensors around the
gas tank. The miles-per-gallon average calculator starts going wonky and
spitting out extreme numbers, which shouldn’t be happening if it is averaging
over the lifetime of the car’s driving history. That has only happened when the
battery has died or had to be disconnected. It also signals that we are low on
fuel much earlier than it typically would notify us, but on the next startup,
the indicator doesn’t appear. We think little of it, though I have a growing
concern about the electrical system.

Day 3:

One of our ventures for the day is to load up the kayaks and haul them down to the lake. I’m not sure how she rigged them into my open trunk hatch, but there they were, so we hit the road. Still within her neighborhood, she floored it up a hill, having forgotten they were there until I yelled and she excused, “Sorry, when I get headed out, I just forget what I’m carrying in my excitement to get there.” My eldest son holds on to one of the two kayaks as a precaution.

(At this point, I hope you’re starting to see the great need
for comic relief.)

While kayaking, two of my boys learned the hard lesson of
why communication is necessary to navigating watercraft when they both tried to
exit the kayak first and flipped it into the cold mountain water. They didn’t
quite appreciate my lesson that you can always choose to laugh off situations right
then.

Day 4:

The vehicle system started showing a loose gas cap indicator. I tried to tighten and check it multiple times, but that had no effect. Later on, it went off again. I texted my husband that there seemed to be more electrical issues, but we didn’t go too far that day.

A pet peeve of mine is turn-signal usage. I think it’s wise
to signal your intentions, and she did like to choose her lanes at whim or
casually overstep their bounds. However, she was driving and doing me a great
service, so I bit my tongue.

As she drifted and slowed around curves, I heard a strange whining
sound, but couldn’t pinpoint what it was coming from. It wasn’t the brakes, but
I thought might be a belt wearing out.

Day 5:

Monday again and the one local shop we might use was open. I informed my mom that I really didn’t want to take the car in to have it diagnosed, only to pay the same fee back in Orlando, but she couldn’t help wanting peace of mind. She took the boys to a park and the car to the shop while I worked. When she returned, though, she had to admit, “Your husband was right. It’s the compressor, not freon.” I just shrugged and laughed, thinking that probably killed her to say. I thanked her for caring enough to try and for her help.

Part of the reason my mom was doing all the driving was that
I work what-feels-like-24/7. Most of what I do is based in Europe and I put in
my eight hours very early on, so that by midday, I’m done and ready to play. However,
there are always lingering activities and they seem quite endless. I like to do
something productive when I’m on a long drive and frankly, driving isn’t it.

We set out to go white water rafting in the afternoon and after
an hour-plus drive and safety training and bus ride with our gear, we arrive to
the top of the river to find that the dam that controls the flow has been shut
because a transformer blew up at the substation that powers it. Now, I happen
to know a bit about these things and think we can wait a bit to see if their
service team can get it going, but she doesn’t agree. I guess the river folk
are more trustworthy on these matters than her daughter who works for the engineering
company that likely made the transformer. But I just write stories, so admittedly
could easily be wrong.

So we departed and drove into Cherokee to tour the Native
American museum and chose dinner afterward at a place the museum guide
suggested. The parking lot was full, so we circled around the back of the
restaurant, which looked like a mobile home lot. My mother, thinking this was a
mistake, floored the car in reverse while I shrieked that there was another car
behind us who had been attempting the same thing. We lived; so did the car.

After dinner, we went to a show about the history of the
Cherokee people from origin to the Trail of Tears, then took the hour-long
drive back, grateful that it was cool out at night. During the drive, my mother
ran over some sort of mid-sized, loping, brown creature that tried desperately
to correct its mistaken dash across the road, while my mom swerved into the
oncoming lane to avoid it and wound up crushing it instead. Luckily, there were
no other cars on the road. I’m certain that crossed her mind before she
swerved. “You never swerve,” I tried
to tell her.

On the way back, we debated trying to white-water-raft again
the next day before we left town. “I’m pretty sure fate is trying to teach us
something right now, between the car and the rafting and my crazy work load,” I
said. She agreed, but couldn’t get past how close we had come to taking the
boys rafting, even after I reminded her that they needed to see that it was
okay to get past your disappointments and move on. We arrived home near
midnight, and the second I laid down for bed, I knew I would wake up to her
changed mind and a renewed attempt. I really wanted to be back home.

Day 6 and final:

After an hour of back-and-forth discussion, I persuaded her that rafting should not be part of our plan for the day. We did a bit more between work and town and cleaning the cabin before we hit the road, hoping we had delayed enough that we wouldn’t feel as much of the heat on the road, since it might be a cooler time of day. Part of that included kayaking, and she took her mug of coffee into the car since my youngest son had knocked over her first cup. The second cup didn’t last long on the floor of my car either. I laughed it off, knowing the kids had done far worse to the vehicle and not wanting to yell at her about what was clearly an accident.

On the drive back, when we stopped for dinner, she asked
which direction the restaurant at our exit was. The signs hadn’t said and
Google wasn’t finding it, so I suggested turning one direction and if we didn’t
find it, making a U-turn. We were in the left lane. Well, I guess that meant
gun it into the right-hand lane, and luckily I shrieked again and the other car
stopped in time. We stayed in the left lane, which was good, because that was
the correct choice.

She dropped me at the door of the restaurant to check in
while she parked. I wondered what took her so long until she walked in, clearly
frazzled. “The car door won’t open now; I was locked in!” she shared. “The boys
had to open it from the outside while I had a panic attack that I would be
stuck in the heat.”

Oh, gosh – now this is getting bad. I went to check it out
and, sure enough, the driver’s-side door would only open from the exterior. It
was also clearly mechanical, as if the handle had been snapped on the inside
where whatever pieces pivot to unlatch it should have tugged at something. I
texted my husband who scoffingly said that he fully expected the car to arrive
home looking like the truckster from Family Vacation. I teased my mom about pulling
on the handle too hard at every stop instead of unlocking the door first, but
told her I hoped she knew I was kidding.

I really, really wanted to be home. As we drew close, a
torrential downpour began, and we had to close the windows that were providing
our only source of “fresh” highway air. It was raining so hard that we couldn’t
see the lines. I suggested pulling off the road, but as we couldn’t make out
where it was, chose not to. The next glimpse I got was of the side rail ending and
a rolling hill to our right, so we were fortunate that we didn’t make that
mistake. I tried wiping at the windshield with our only remaining napkin to see
if it was just foggy, but I couldn’t tell.

Then I realized that the defrost button might still work.
While my husband had told me that running the fan could cause the compressor to
lock up even further, this was now a life-or-death situation and I figured our
lives were worth more than the compressor. Within three minutes, we could make
out the road at least and within eight, it had stopped altogether. That’s
Florida for you.

Conclusion:

In all, that’s an AC unit, a whining belt, gas sensors throughout the entire system, and a door handle, all on top of the registration that hadn’t arrived and historical shifting problem. Then you add the mysterious road animal, two near accidents, and coffee spill. Next time, I’ll just push the thing off one of those North Carolina cliffs!

And with that, I hope you found a few more reasons to feel grateful for your own life, while laughing at my misfortunes. I know having survived it, I’m a little more grateful for the blessings in mine! And mom’s already texted to ask if we can head up at the end of summer again, and perhaps fly up instead.

A review to address some story questions I’ve received

Summer 20XX by M. Reali-Elliott

I wanted to write a summary review regarding some feedback on this book. While light in nature, for the discerning reader who wishes to examine it deeper, there are many elements that provide a more rich foundation to analyze the book upon.

There is a sense in which time is a key element as it is driving the main character to anxiously race against the clock to spend quality time with her children. The anxiety of feeling like time is passing by is featured in choppy, dated, events-based memories. It is also written in a journalistic manner, where our thoughts can bounce a little.

Also in a journalistic style, it is intentionally honest and focused on one character’s perspective. All her frustrations and feelings and moments that matter draw together in what she reports; this interweaves the elements that have impacted their summer and time together in a unique way, much closer to the way our minds process events.

Names have been left out for many locations and people, because with the intent to inspire, the point is that this could be anyone’s summer any time they chose to give up daily frustrations and issues to refocus on the humorous side of things.

Like any journey of growth, we can’t begin with everything coming up roses, especially when finding joy amidst challenge is the main premise behind the story. With that in mind, the points in the book that feature laughter are intended to be noteworthy, whether they feature a dry laugh, a mirthful chuckle, or a full-body howl.


View all my reviews

A modern day Renaissance Woman

I’ve said before that I believe that the reason we are here is to experience as much of what the world has to offer that we can in the time that is given to us. I have such a long list of what I want to see and do and learn and read that I know I won’t possibly get to it all in this lifetime.

And so I plan. I constantly search for new projects or ideas. I don’t always finish the ones I start, to the frustration of my husband.

I heard a positive spin on this last weekend as someone referred to themselves as a Renaissance Woman. Taken from the term “Renaissance Man,” a person who is well-rounded and has delved into many areas of expertise to become good at many, but never allowing one to surpass the others, I thought this was a perfect term to describe the way I go about my many projects.

Other people hold by the 10,000 hour theory, which says that when you approach so many hours, you have become a true expert in your subject area. I am actually obsessive enough that I attempt to track subject areas where I am trying to learn and grow and improve in. I doubt I will hit 10,000 in any of these, but I like watching my growth happen in quantifiable terms.

Many of my social and blog posts are motivated by the things I am reading and learning, because they are driven by my closest-held values. Because there is so much I want to do with my life, I have to prioritize and I have to realize when it is time to give something up and move on to the new. This year, I continue to focus on my writing, on learning French, and on self-driven religious studies. Separate from things I just want to be able to say I’ve done, I believe that the area we should want to learn most about is the nature of what we believe in.

I believe I am not alone in feeling there is simply too much of this world to get to finish everything I’d like. Isn’t it a beautiful feeling to recognize how much wonder for the world is left to us as adults?

As an open question, I’d love to hear some of the things you are learning about or are actively choosing to make a personal study of this year. Feel free to PM or list them in the comments or any other method you prefer.

The reason behind the story – Summer 20XX

When I first started writing Summer 20XX, I just thought my boys and I were having a great time doing different activities every afternoon when they got out of their camp programs. Some days were admittedly not-so-great with normal sibling bickering and more than our share of disappointments and rainy days.

I posted pictures every day and really appreciated the response, not only online, but amazingly enough when I would run into friends in person also.

“I have loved seeing the pictures of what you all are doing!” they would congratulate.

I also got a frequent concerned inquiry, “Did you quit your job?”

To both, I would laugh and try to explain: there is so much more going on than the pictures could possibly convey.

I received a lot of support to turn our stories into something more, but even I didn’t know where our journey was leading us until the day we reached our culminating moment and biggest lesson learned. At that instant, I knew it was a message that needed to be shared with the world, bigger than just my family and our journey.

“You can always choose to laugh. You can choose to smile instead of cry. When we make a mistake or face something we don’t like or things just aren’t going well, I want you to remember what just happened. Smiling is always a choice and that is what I want for you. Choose to smile and to laugh.” – Summer 20XX

Lines divide us – inclusion lessons from Twix

I lead my local office’s Diversity and Inclusion chapter. In
multiple meetings this month, employees have mentioned that there is escalating
rivalry between different groups within our facility. I knew that there was
some rivalry between our two buildings, but they reported that the worst cases
are occurring between each half of the same building.

In one case, an employee shared that someone had moved desks
to sit closer to those he worked with, while still maintaining the same
position. He had lost friends for “moving to the dark side.” The individual I
was talking to was concerned that he would be ridiculed just for coming to my
building to meet with me.

I’m in a fortunate position that I am able to speak about these issues. I had my company’s full support with the activity I wanted to run. Below is a transcript of what I said, and while I know that one activity can never completely resolve an issue, it is a start. I have had many employees come up to me since and offer me their thanks for saying something that needed to be said years ago. I hope that by sharing it online, others might be able to use it in similar situations.

I’m here today to talk
about how simple lines and differences can divide an otherwise equal and
inclusive company. First, I’d like to show a video that I hope everyone can
find a little humor in.

[While I can’t share the video directly for licensing
purposes, anyone can find an example of the Twix factory rivalry commercials
that aired a few years ago if they so desired.]

This may seem a little
far-fetched, but how easy could it be to fall into this situation – where our
left and our right sides just cannot see eye to eye?

As many of you know,
we are in the beginning stages of forming a Diversity and Inclusion focused
employee resource group. One of the primary goals is to take a diverse
workforce and transform it into a culture that is inclusive and respectful of
each other’s differences. We would like to see more participation on our
committee and are actively looking for participants who would like to take on a
leadership role to drive this within our facility.

First and foremost, we
want to bring everyone together so that our aims are aligned even when our
backgrounds are diverse and our positions and functions are different.

There is a reason our “One
Company” message began, and it was to gather each factory and each business out
of their silos and into the collective goals of our organization. To imagine
that a factory could be divided between buildings or between halves of the same
building takes the need for this message even further. We are one company.

As we think about how
differences divide us, many of us may have chuckled at the video shown, but the
reality is that simple lines separate us more than we would like to admit. The
entire concept of a line often implies a separation, and from an early age
we’re taught to always stay within the lines. Not long ago, lines of
segregation were used for terrible reasons, and it seems we still have more to
learn. If you consider the division symbol itself, it is a line of separation. Lines
between the Twix bars jokingly divided the candy factories. Lines are used in
ultimatums and wars. Lines in the road dictate direction or they separate the
fast from the slow. Rivers separate land-masses. There is a lot of dividing
that goes on in our lives, just because a line exists.

However, if you bisect
that division with another line, you find one other thing a line is good for –
a bridge. Every time you cross through the foyer, instead of seeing it as a
line of separation, imagine you are instead crossing a bridge that connects the
most critical pieces across a large divide.

Crossing that bridge
is necessary.

Today we have some
treats to hand out and I hope that they serve as a good way to remember this.
We have Twix bars for everyone, so as you make your way forward to take a
package, I want you to take a moment before you dig in. If you grabbed a
package, please turn around and find someone who does not have one to share it
with, either someone you do not know or work closely with. Please share it,
make a new connection, and choose to build a bridge. Thank you.

Nothing lasts forever

Yesterday, the world watched in horror as the famous Notre Dame Cathedral burned. 107 years ago, to the day, the world read how the “unsinkable” Titanic had hit an iceberg in its maiden voyage and claimed many lives. These monumental losses and destruction of majestic and beautiful structures were nothing short of tragic.

People cried out their heartbreak. Early in the day yesterday, many posted historical articles and images of the Titanic, but as the later events unfolded, those who could say they had seen the cathedral posted pictures from their visit.

Losses like the Titanic and Notre Dame hit us harder than most because they represent something pure, magnificent, and beautiful. They represent the rare situations where beauty is not simply in the eye of the beholder; it is absolute.

As with every other tragedy, the world will mourn for a few
weeks. But we cannot mourn forever, because there will be more losses ahead –
there always are. We simply can’t hold that much pain indefinitely.

At risk of sounding cold-hearted, there is another approach
we must take. While everyone keeps posting about how sad they are, these aren’t
the words most people will utter and they aren’t what anyone wants to hear.
That does not make them less true. I’m sorry you’re sad, but I’m also sorry
that no one has had the courage to say this yet.

Nothing in this world is meant to last. Nothing.

From the day we are born, we know there will be an end. We hoard
up money and things, all the while knowing we don’t get to take them with us.
Buildings fall, ships sink, treasures get destroyed, people die.

This is just another one of those things that couldn’t last forever. It’s sad, but true. I’m not saying this to hurt anyone.

There is a message here, one of hope for the future. Maybe
we should be treasuring something different.

Laughter is built on moments of absurdity

Have you ever stopped to think about the things that make you laugh? I want you to take a moment and remember a few of them, because most people never bother to do this. It requires a great deal of self-awareness.

Laughter is a spontaneous reaction and we never stop to censor it to process the reasons behind it. A lot of what we laugh about is very dark and it requires wisdom to see this, because we’re so used to laughing quickly, then moving on with our lives.

Have you ever laughed when you saw someone trip or get hurt? Most people will probably answer, “No, I would never do that,” because when we stop to think about it, that sounds really terrible to laugh at! Yet, the slapstick comedy routine of slipping on a banana peel exists for a reason.

We laugh when we see someone get verbally zinged, yelling “Burn!” We laugh at inappropriate, sarcastic memes we find online. Those of us with a really dark sense of humor still laugh at the woodchipper scene in Fargo. In a physical sense, tickling actually kind of hurts, but still it causes us to laugh. What we actually laugh most often at are moments of emotional or physical pain.

Ask yourself: am I laughing because something about this situation is just wrong?

I actually cannot find anything I have laughed about that hasn’t been because of an element of pain or the result of something negative. I would challenge you to question yourself when you next laugh, because I’m willing to bet that it is something dark at the core.

When you’re ready to admit it, consider how we can use that to our advantage. Life, when you think about it, is really a struggle every day. If we’ve already taught ourselves how to laugh at small moments of pain, that could easily be applied to all of the struggles. When you look at it that way, life is funny.

Laughing at pain seems ridiculous, so I want to take a moment to recognize the absurd moments that cause us to laugh. My latest example is that my youngest, Quentin, came home from Kindergarten yesterday talking about a visit from the local Audubon Society. They introduced his class to a bald eagle with a twisted beak. He explained that they had tried bird braces, but it hadn’t done enough.

At this point, I burst out laughing. Bird braces? The vision in my head was hilarious. It was absurd.

Still, that’s a little dark, when you think about it. I was laughing at our nation’s bird with a damaged beak. It almost makes you stop and wonder about all the absurd moments.

We have the idea that laughter is therapeutic and offsets negative events in our lives. But what if that is because we’re only laughing to manage the negative in the first place? Suddenly, a whole world of possibility is open to us when we face a negative situation. We can choose anger or humor – it is as simple as that.

Certainly, there are moments that call for anger, but the rest, just maybe, are times when we need to lighten up a bit. So the next time your toddler throws your keys in the toilet, you may as well choose to laugh. The rest of us will be.

Why are we here?

I’m sure this is a question you have asked before. Why were people created? What was the purpose?

Now, I firmly believe that we each have our own purpose to fulfill. But that is separate from what people as a whole were made for.

This is a question I was asked to answer in high school. In the eyes of the religious school I attended, I was sure that I was supposed to answer in terms of our duty to God and I knew the answer to the catechism question, “What is the chief end of man?” to which the response is, “To glorify God and enjoy him forever.”

But what about those who weren’t Christians? Could they achieve the same purpose as their fellow mankind who were?

In high school, I had written something to meet the requirement, and I don’t even remember what, because I know it wasn’t the full and complete answer. It has bothered me for years and I’ve returned to this question time and again.

One of the reasons I struggle with it is because we could just as easily accomplish this in a heavenly state. Yet we have been bound to this Earth and all of creation.

I believe the answer lies in how we relate to the rest of the created world. It was created alongside us and we as the ultimate creation in it. Everything else was formed as the canvas background and scenery by the master artist, who chose to put us in as the final work.

It has been said that you can only fully know an artist by his creation. Exterior appearance is just a shell, with carefully selected words that dictate how we choose to relate to others. What it takes to create a work of art is to bring pieces of yourself that otherwise stay hidden from view and put them on public display. We reveal who we are in bits and pieces. Authors, painters, poets, sculptors, the list goes on. That creative spark that was first inside them comes into view and displayed to the world for it to experience.

In this way, we can view all of creation. It has been made for us to experience and as we do so, we experience the master Creator. Who could not enjoy forever the wonders of the world? All its formations and plants and animals. The sunrises and the snowfalls, each different from any before. It’s more than that, though – it’s the laughs with friends and the memories of love and the feel of excitement on a holiday morning. We get to experience all of that and as we do, we enjoy a part of the mind of our Creator.

So whoever you are and whatever you believe, you have been created in a pretty amazing place. I hope that you will join me in being grateful for every experience and I hope that you stand in awe at the beauty of knowing you were made with a purpose in this amazing world. Enjoy it!