Two people dear to me have just lost a mother or a father, and what occurs to me is how neither one is the type to wear their sorrow on their sleeve. Which means if you didn’t know them, you would never know their worlds have just been radically altered, and that underneath their smiles they are missing someone terribly.

I bring this up because what’s true for them is true for us, and true for every person we meet. Each of us is carrying something — a sorrow, a guilt, an irreplaceable loss — something. We might not know what that something is, and we don’t have to.

The point is, if we keep in mind that everyone is carrying a heavy load — from the co-worker next to us to the guy on the freeway — we’ll not only be kinder than necessary, we’ll find it impossible to be anything less.

Bookmark:

For better or worse, what we place at the center of our lives will drive and order everything else.

If you read last Monday’s Pep Talk, you know I’m working on a writing project (specifically, a small book/series of books) that’s got my enthusiasm way off the charts–not necessarily in a good way. Last Monday, I sent up a prayer that I would sleep through the night, instead of waking up at 4:00 or 4:30, as I had been. The next morning, I woke up at 3:30. That’s when you know you’d better pay attention.

Stumbling out of bed, I finally realized that even though this book is close to my heart, it was never meant to overtake my heart–or my life. So as best I could, I started putting my priorities back in order. I paid a visit to Good Shepherd Parish. I took time to enjoy dinner at a friend’s house, with a group of fellow board members. I put in a couple of grinding workouts–which forces you to chill out.

All of these things helped. The morning after the 3:30 wake-up incident, I slept till 6:30. And later that day, with very few obstacles, I hit the first of my four short-term writing deadlines–not somehow, as the saying goes, but triumphantly. (I don’t take the credit, but I do take delight.)

What’s on your plate this week? What deserves to take center stage?  Think about which priority should be driving everything else, and how you can keep the “everything else” in balance.

Bookmark:

Tomorrow morning, I am meeting for the last time with my students at the University of San Diego. For them, it’s just the end of another busy semester. For me, it’s the end of my 5+ years of teaching–at least for now.

I should be sad, and of course there’s a part of me that is. But I am also stoked (as my students would say), because I’m doing other things; namely, developing a series of writing projects that is either going to redefine my career or never be spoken of again! It’s a risk I’m willing to take.

Meanwhile, teaching isn’t a bad thing; on the contrary, it’s a great thing. But for this season of life, it is not the best thing. If we want to maximize our contribution in any area of life–and enjoy the rewards that follow–we’ve got to focus on best things. Are you doing that? Am I doing that? What would life look like and feel like if we did? If your experience is anything like mine, you are breathing differently and better, just asking the questions.

Bookmark:

Steve Dumas was a larger-than-life character who lived across the street from us when I was a kid. He was a couple of years older than my oldest brother, and it was always sort of a thrill whenever he came over. In addition to being a football star and the friendliest kid in town, he had this Alabama twang that made him exotic to us Midwestern kids.

Steve and his family moved back to Alabama when I was in second grade, never to be heard from again. Before he left, we acquired his dog: a beagle named Sadie. Best dog ever.

Last summer, I was sharing this story with my nephew Dylan–and about a month later, my mom came across Steve Dumas on LinkedIn. Keep in mind, we hadn’t heard from him since the Nixon era. Can you imagine? He was still living in Alabama, working in his family’s furniture business, married with four beautiful kids. Since then, Steve and the DeLapas have traded a handful of emails, reminiscing about the Coloma (Michigan) days and catching up on one another’s lives.

This is probably the closest I’ll ever come to seeing someone raised from the dead. Steve and I don’t write often, but when we do, we never stop marveling at how amazing it is to be in touch. One of his recent emails was signed, “Your Friend Forever, Steve.”

So now I ask you: Who’s the Steve Dumas in your life whom you would love to get back in touch with? What would happen if you took time to look them up on LinkedIn or Facebook, not in a stalky way but in a spirit of friendship?

Bookmark:

My friend John Highkin is one of the best thank-you-note writers I know. I thought of this last week when I received one of his hand-written cards, after helping out at a Sunday friend-raiser for Young Audiences of San Diego. John is our executive director, and I am a board trustee.

Here are five things that make John’s notes such a joy to receive, and probably a joy for him to send—therein lies a lesson for us all:

1. They’re handwritten. Compare a handwritten thank-you with one sent by email, and you’ll see that although there’s nothing wrong with email (and sometimes that’s all that’s warranted), it simply doesn’t compare. John’s notes are always written with a blue fountain pen, which adds an even nicer touch.
2. They’re specific. How sweet it is when someone acknowledges your particular contribution.
3. They’re heartfelt. You have heard me say this so many times, you can probably finish the sentence: “What comes from the heart …” Three words. If you’re the first person to post the rest of the sentence on my blog, I will send you a copy of John’s spectacular new CD, Heart of a Clown.
4. They’re focused. John isn’t thanking me for the dishes and beverages, then turning around and mentioning fiscal matters. Or the handouts needed for the next meeting. Or the Boston tragedy. There’s a place for all of that, but this isn’t it. When you or I write a thank-you, we too need to keep our focus where it belongs: on thanking the recipient.
5. They include the date. You never know when your recipient might want to look back on your note. Always include the month, day and year. Or for example if you’re writing on a holiday, you can simply say Mother’s Day 2013.

John adds one other nice touch: He signs his thank-yous, “Yours, John.” That’s so much friendlier than just a name, or (my favorite—ha ha), “Best.” What’s your preferred sign-off? The point is to choose something warm and appropriate, rather than simply writing your name.

One last thought: Kids always get a bad rap for not writing thank-yous. But what about us? Who in our lives are we overdue in sending a note of appreciation? Why don’t we take time this week to make it happen?

Bookmark: