We needed to arrive at the location before 4pm. If we missed the time, it’s possible we might not complete a critical task on behalf of my dad. We left the first location at 2:30pm, and it became clear that we would arrive at our destination around 3:40pm. We would be rushing to complete our task. Only to have to rush back home in order to make another deadline.
At 3pm I decided to turn the car around and head back home. Why rush? Why stress about getting from one point to another? I, and my compatriots, are already stressed and tired — why put ourselves through more of it? My decision created some frustration that quickly abated — “we’re almost there, let’s just get this done… we’ll rest when we’re dead.”
Today, I learned that we didn’t need to head to any location yesterday — everything could be done by phone from the convenience of our home.
I’m reminded of a story my Dad told me — many times. I’ll change the story — [changes] — so that it’s appropriate for this audience — my Dad wasn’t always the cleanest story teller.
Atop a hill sat two young bulls. A young one, and an old one. In the valley, there sat a collection of female cows.
The young bull looked to the old bull and said, let’s run down and [read scripture] to one or two of them. The old bull turned to the young bull and said, let’s walk down and [read scripture] to them all.
Sometimes the simplest and least stressful plan produces the maximal experience of life. And, while moving slower might feel less productive, in the end, it’s likely better.
Commentary: If you know my dad, you know how that story went. And if you didn’t, then I’m comfortable with you believing that he spoke about reading scripture often.
