Today

The Winter Olympics are an amazing thing to watch. Here are people who have devoted their entire lives to a given sport (most of which are incredibly dangerous) and are now at the pinnacle of success. They execute triple lutzes, Double McTwist 1260s and 90-mph luge runs flawlessly, looming larger than life above us normal folk who work in an office for a living. We look at them and think, "I could never do that." And for most of us, we are right. We weren't privileged to be raised near a mountain range; our parents didn't start us in competitive skating at age 2; and, most importantly, we don't have a natural inclination to cheat death on a daily basis.

But think of successful men and women in other areas. Businessmen, speakers, teachers, singers and songwriters, moms and dads. Whatever it is you aspire towards, whatever personal or career goals you have, you no doubt have your role models, your idols. "The best." Those people about whom you think, "I could never be as good as him." The difference between these cases and those above is that in these cases, for most of us, we are wrong to think in this way. Each of these people is most likely just like you, dealing with the same issues, the same circumstances, the same constraints. In many cases, Fortune did not smile upon them; success was not given to them on a silver platter, nor did where they were raised come into play. (And thankfully, death-cheating was rare.) What does set them apart, in large measure, is their attitude.

While this is a multi-faceted topic, of course, I think I have identified a key aspect of this attitude (or at least I'm hoping so!). Like most of us, I, too, have personal and career aspirations. And because I am an overachiever, I set the bar high for myself. Without going into details, I want to be the best that I can possibly be--all the time. And when I do less than my best, it really grinds me. I can't stand it. Unfortunately, one cannot be at his best all the time. Perfection is a goal which can never be achieved. I have tried to come to grips with that. I understand that I will never reach perfection this side of the grave; I will not reach all of my goals tomorrow, or next month, or next year. And as I get older I am learning that I can't even do all of the things I should be doing to achieve those goals. It's just not possible. But what I can do is ask myself a question. Every day, I can ask myself, "What can I do today?"

What can I do today to move one inch closer to my goals? What can I do today to become a better, healthier person? What small thing is in my power to control that I can change for the better today? Asking this question is enormously freeing and gratifying. Will I be out of debt tomorrow? No. But can I make a good financial decision today, one that will help me become debt-free? Probably. Will I ever know everything there is to know about the Bible? Not a chance. But can I take a few minutes to become more acquainted with it today? More than likely, yes. Am I the world's best dad? Despite what any coffee mug or t-shirt I may someday receive might say, I doubt I am. But can I take Brodie for a few minutes to give his mom a well-needed break? Well, it doesn't take a genius to answer that question.

Am I great? Am I among those to whom people refer as "the best?" I would highly doubt it. Will I someday become noticeably successful? I'll leave that question for others to decide (they'll be the ones who would have to notice, after all). Will I at least achieve my own goals? That's the plan. And when I do achieve those goals, I'll know that it wasn't because I won the lottery, or because the Spirit miraculously endowed me with a Blombergian knowledge of the Bible in my sleep, or because I was visited by the Dad Fairy. I'll know that it was because each day between now and then, I made the decision to do something small, something positive, something today.