I do this every year.

Summer comes, and I have great masses of time.  I also have a goal—usually grand and life-changing—that I will accomplish with the aforementioned masses of time.  I make my list, get my priorities in order, and then proceed to fill my masses of time with items completely unrelated to my goal.  The end of summer approaches, and I find that I have done much, but accomplished little.  And my big goal?  Usually untouched.

And then I get stressed.

And then the people I love get stressed.

Not my favorite pattern, but at least it’s predictable.

This summer’s goal is to Prepare to Become a Public Speaker.  You see, I‘ve been writing this blog for about two years now, and I’m thinking that I could take some of the better posts and sort of moosh them into talks that I could give at…you know…places where they have people come and give talks.  Figuring out the where and how of it all is part of my Summer List to Achieve My Summer Goal.  Alas, I once again find myself caught in the Tyranny of the Urgent, which this summer takes the form of two shows—rehearsal or performance six out of seven days per week—and ferrying the kids to a plethora of other activities.

Now don’t get me wrong.  I’m not trying to play the martyr here.  I’ve chosen to do everything I’m doing.  The shows are crazy fun, and they give me the chance to play with my kids.  As for the Dad Taxi stuff, well, that’s more time with my fifteen-year-old-soon-to-be-driving-on-their-own twins.  All good.

All time consuming.

So I twitch.  And I stress.  And I pass that stress along to the people I’m supposed to be enjoying spending time with.

I had a bit of an epiphany the other morning, as I waited for my daughter at her Vacation Bible School rehearsal. (I should preface this by telling you that I had just finished reading Ecclesiastes, and that always leaves me emotionally and spiritually disheveled.)  In any case, I took a walk in the nearby hills, enjoying the exceedingly rare peace and quiet.  A verse from Psalm 131 came to my mind.  It was the line, “I have stilled and quieted my soul; like a weaned child with its mother, like a weaned child is my soul within me.”  Frankly, that verse has always seemed a little odd to me, but this morning it resonated.  The picture of a child of four or five years old, walking quietly beside his mother, not running after anything, but just holding her hand and going where she leads, sort of blossomed in my spirit. I thought, “I want that.”

Then I remembered something my Ma-in-Law said a few days ago, as I was taking her to another scary cancer appointment.  She was exceedingly nervous about the coming test.  About two blocks into the drive, she commented that she felt much calmer, just having me there.  Oh, it’s nothing inherent in my nature, believe me.  It’s simply the fact that I was the one with her last summer, when she went through the Big Ugly Cancer Time.  Now, when she has follow-up appointments that dredge up those memories, she feels safer having me there. Still, as I wandered along, I felt me spirit say, “I want that.”

Then Matthew 5:9 popped into my head.  “Blessed are the peacemakers.”  I wondered—still do—if Jesus might have meant something in addition to the traditional concept of a peacemaker.  I wondered if he might also include those people who bring a sense of calm and peace just by being with you.  I know people like that.  I respect and admire them.  Now, wandering through the hills on a quiet morning, I realized—I wanna be that guy.

I want to be someone who brings peace.  Often, I bring tension.

Hmm…

At that point Ecclesiastes came tumbling back into my head.  I tell you, some days it’s like living inside a pinball machine.  Anyway, the central theme of Ecclesiastes seems to be that the key to a meaningful and satisfying life is to accept with joy what God chooses to give, when he chooses to give it.   Work, play, success, failure—each has its place and time in our lives.  Striving—even after noble goals—is meaningless.

So.

It would seem that I need to trust God to work in and through me to build what he wants when he wants.  If he wants my readership to soar into the double-digits, he will bring it about.  In the meantime, I will delight in writing for the four of you.  If God wants me to speak to the masses, then he will give me a message and a mass or two.  In the meantime, perhaps I will serve better by listening more.

I am in the Season of Dad.  The blessings and challenges here are rich and abundant.  I really don’t need to go searching for more.

I will try to be like the child in Psalm 131, holding quietly to my Lord’s hand and trusting him to lead me where he will.  Perhaps that will produce the kind of peace in me that will allow me to be a peacemaker—or a peace bringer.  Because I really want to be that guy.

But I’m not going to stress over it.