In a random conversation with my son a few days ago, I was faced with a truth hidden behind imaginary walls I’ve erected in my own mind. He told me that I always say, “I should do that.” There are many examples of what “that” is. It could be writing more, or playing my guitar more often, or finishing up a sewing project, or crocheting that blanket, or finishing that course, or starting that business venture. The list goes on, while I sit still. I’m good at the “shoulds” but not so good at the follow-thru.

I was scrolling through obituaries earlier today and thinking of people I’ve known who recently passed on from this adventure we call life. Some leave great legacies about their accomplishments in business or their many travels around the world. Some leave tributes about how they loved and cared for their families. Some even leave quotes about their favorite beer (I literally saw that listed in an obituary today.) I don’t want the dash on my tombstone to be marked by any one thing or by a listing of accomplishment or greatness. I want the years my dash represents to be marked by a dedication to God and the things that matter. I want to make a difference somehow in the void not a blip in an obituary column that will be forgotten.

The past couple weeks, I’ve been rereading the Lord of the Rings trilogy and “nerding out” completely. Tolkien was a genius! He left his mark not only in the masterpieces he created that live on so vividly today, but he was also instrumental in C.S. Lewis’s conversion to Christianity. Lewis as we know then became one of the most prolific Christian figures in literature and religion of our time. Tolkien’s dash indelibly etches it’s trace into forever.

I don’t know what it is that leaves me stranded in the forest of the shoulds but I am determined to find a path out. One foot in front of the other, I choose to step forward and take action. Distractions will surely attempt to sway me from the pathway. Busyness will come and scream in my ear that I should be doing something else. Fear and insecurity will most definitely rear their wicked heads to keep me stuck in the fray. They are my biggest enemies.

Still sometimes I think that the biggest victories are achieved, not by fell strokes of force, but by the active and adamant action of one foot in front of the other. So if you’re looking for me, dear friend, I’ll be here practicing the simple art of walking until I’m finally living.