Good, But Too Busy

Good, But Too Busy (1,202)

July 9th, 2011

“Viva la difference!”

Candidly, my understanding of the French language is limited to oui and non. But I think “viva la difference” means “long live the differences between us.” Unfortunately, nowadays most of the differences we focus on are of a physical nature. I think we’re much more intriguing when we’re sprouting emotional and spiritual uniqueness instead of discussing face lifts and plumpness.

I do have a “difference” in my life. I think I’ve centered in on it and found it. I think most people of my age—or even younger—have bought into a concept which I have refused to give into in any way, shape or form. Here it is:

Being grown-up is doing things you don’t want to do.

Isn’t that just admitting that life is sometimes miserable, waiting for the next Misery Train so we can hand over our ticket to Discomfort, and board—bored.

This came to mind yesterday when I received an email from a gentleman telling me that he thought my jonathots were really good but that unfortunately, he was too busy to read them. I don’t know what he expected my reaction to be, but I laughed. I certainly didn’t do it to make fun of him or to ridicule his wording. I just think it is so humorous that when we finally discover something really good, we make ourselves too busy doing the lesser, or even bad, things, to allow ourselves the blessing of doing the more excellent. Isn’t that fascinating?

Because the truth of the matter is, if everybody decides to work a job they don’t like, who is ever going to have the vision to take a chance on the next invention that changes our world? In other words, if you’re taking a job as a night watchman to get your grits and gravy, how will you ever find out if you were the one who had the intelligence and foresight to develop the automobile that runs on tap water?

If being grown-up is doing things you don’t want to do, then no wonder we make politics so painful and church so pretentious and predictable—because we wouldn’t feel grown-up unless we were really suffering. And we believe that church is exclusively for grown-ups, even though Jesus suggested maintaining a curriculum and atmosphere at a level for children.

Am I supposed to withhold good things from my life so I can do a bunch of awkward, unfulfilling chores, just to impress my neighbors that I am adequately struggling to be a “good adult?” If that is what this journey is all about, then it seems to me that shortening it might be the best way to actually complete it.

Call me selfish. You can even call me childish. But if I find something good, I’m going to drop a whole lot of inadequate crap to do it instead of making myself look really part of the herd by chomping on the same grass. You do realize—if you chew away at the grass around the herd, one of your neighbors has already pooped on it. I’m not trying to be gross—just factual. It’s not about finding greener grass. It’s about discovering fresh grass in your own pasture, which you can call “good” without apology, and know that you can go to sleep tired because you did what you wanted in the way you wanted, with an eye toward benefiting others.

Yes, I had to laugh when the guy told me that my jonathots were good but he was too busy to read them. Some people insist that writings of all sorts will eventually become obsolete and that words will disappear in favor of shrugs, abbreviations and body language. I don’t think so. Because there will always be a group of people who are willing to pursue good—even if it goes against the grain.

Yes, I’ve found my “viva la difference.” And it would be best summed up this way: Being grown-up is doing good things no matter how difficult they are because when you get done, you’re so glad you did.

Now isn’t that better? And there’s that word—better. Begins with the first three letters: b-e-t. Because to find better, you do have to bet on something that isn’t always a sure thing. It scares some folks. But the fearless ones sometimes get the blessing of winning the lottery.