The title of today’s post carries a multitude of meanings for me. How often do we go through life with that question on our lips?
The first of the “Is That All” for me today is this actual blog and site. I started writing back in January of 2016. I do not remember what made me think that I had anything to say that people would want to read. Just the same, I started writing. I decided I would write what I want and not care if people read it or not (Ha! Sure—I was going to be the one human who didn’t care what other people thought). I was actually shocked when I wrote about being from a small town and the post had over 1000 views.
I intended to post a few times each week. I would wait for something to catch my attention and then let the words flow. At first, it came easily. Before long, though, writing began to feel like another obligation instead of something I loved. The posts became less frequent until they stopped altogether. I even let the menderwithbob domain name expire and lost the site. Eventually I decided to try again with a new address. This time I kept paying for the website, but the writing…well, this is my first post in almost a year. I recently pulled up the site, and asked – is that all? Something in my heart told me no.
It is when I write that I find a different kind of peace. My family brings me peace. My work has brought me peace. But writing? There is something different about watching thoughts become words on a screen.
The second of three times that this question has come up was when I retired. Not for the first time, nor the second, but for the third time. I keep saying that I am stepping away from work. I look forward to starting a new chapter in my life with my wife. We have made plans. We talk about the things that we want to do. Yet, every time I cut the strings, within a few months or weeks, I am looking for another opportunity.
For the first time in a long time, I do not have a work email attached to my phone. I am not having to get up early in the morning to log in and work through any issues that may have appeared since I logged off six hours earlier. As a teacher, I would work late into the night and get up early to do grading (English teachers are never without grading), answering emails, or planning. As a district administrator, I would answer calls and emails from teachers all evening, work on data early in the morning, and put in long hours during the day. I then moved into Director of Admin for Testing in California. I will not describe the hours, especially during COVID. When I left testing, I went back to teaching to start the cycle all over again. I am not complaining about the workload or hours – I am admitting to the fact that I am a workaholic. But now that is all over. For the last few weeks, I wake up early and move through the quiet house. I remember each day that there is no work. I sit in the silence and ask, is that all?
I think I ask the question more about identity than anything else.
For decades, when people introduced me, my name came with a title—teacher, administrator, director.
Now…
I am just Bob.
I must admit that my wife reminds me that I have stories that need to be finished. She and my daughter bought me a nameplate for my desk:
Bob Martin – Author
Perhaps I’m simply afraid to believe it.
The third time I asked, “Is that all?” came during Mass last Sunday.
Last Sunday during Mass, I heard something I needed to hear. A brick was dropped on my head.
In the readings, God said to Solomon, “Ask for something of me, and I will give it to you.” Solomon could have asked for wealth, power, or a long life.
Instead, he asked for an understanding heart. Father explained that the original Hebrew is more accurately translated as a listening heart. That phrase has stayed with me ever since.
Father Luther Dalang, a young priest visiting us during the summer, spoke to this reading in his sermon. The first thing he told us was that Solomon asked for this because “before we can possess the greatest treasure, we must first have the wisdom to recognize it.”
Father reminded us of the story he shared during his first weekend at our parish. When he arrived in Southern California, his luggage had been lost by the airline. While waiting for it to be found, he learned that the parish was collecting backpacks and school supplies for local students. Curious, he asked about the project. After hearing the explanation, he smiled and said, “I’m a student too.”
On Saturday, he and our pastor, Fr. Rolly, went to a luncheon with this same group. During his visit, he was presented with his very own backpack and supplies as he prepares to go back to his students. Fr. Luther spoke about being grateful as he looked at the gift and the supplies inside. He then confessed to us – he shared that he was human.
Father mentioned that when he returned home, “like an excited child, I opened the backpack again. Then I opened each pocket, quietly looking inside, almost hoping to find some more hidden treasures, candies, chocolates, and others. Maybe a gift card…Maybe another surprise.”
He wasn’t ungrateful. In fact, he spoke about how surprised and grateful he was to be remembered. A child, I believe, asks the question not because they do not appreciate what they have received, but due to the level of excitement and happiness that they are feeling at the time — they don’t want to let go of that.
Father admitted that this is how many of us live. We receive the answer to a prayer, accomplish a goal, or reach the next milestone, and almost immediately begin looking for the next thing.
That’s me.
This question has popped up so many times in my recent life. I have forgotten to stop and be thankful for what I have. Instead of wanting the next career or job, I should be thankful that I get to have time with my family. Instead of worrying about whether or not I should keep a blog, I should just write. Instead of praying for the next great thing, I should appreciate where my life has brought me and the family, friends, and others who have been or are in my life. I need to be thankful for that.
I learned this week, like I have heard so many times before, that I should be like Solomon and ask for that listening heart. Father could have been having a conversation just with me when he said, “We spend our lives, achievement after achievement, possession after possession, always asking, ‘What else?'”
I am human. I will try to ask this question less. I will fail. I will try again. These are the words that I hope to remember the most from the sermon and all of the times that I have asked, is that all:
“Perhaps the greatest tragedy in life is not that we have too little. The greatest tragedy is that we fail to recognize the treasure already before us.”
I think I’ve spent much of my life looking for one more pocket to search—one more job, one more accomplishment, one more title, one more answer.
Maybe it’s time to stop looking for another pocket and start appreciating the backpack I’ve already been given.