My wife and I spent most of the day at the hospital in Traverse City yesterday for a scheduled procedure for her (it was successful and she is fine). What prompted this was a remark by the nurse caring for her: “I’ll remember you as the folks who have been everywhere.” The remark came from conversations we had with her telling a little about our lives over the past fifty years.

Then, this morning, as is my usual habit, I prayed a short prayer to start my morning. This particular prayer was thanksgiving for God leading my life in directions I never could have imagined and never would have discovered on my own. Together with yesterday’s conversation, it stimulated my thinking to reconsider my life.

Looking back, I had no idea at eighteen or even twenty-two when I married, what my life would become. I had no particular plans or goals for my life other than wanting to do great things. At the time I thought that meant something that would make me recognized and respected, a result of arrogance built on a false premise given early in life. Being the oldest child in my family and first grandchild of my maternal grandparents, I was taught to believe I could do great things. At the time I had no idea what that meant, and it didn’t become clear except in retrospect.

I made it through high school relatively unscathed and went off to college, got married just about the time I finished, and had no idea about career or anything else. From there my life just sort of unfolded rather than according to any plan. At the time it was being lived, much of it didn’t seem to make much sense. I was a restless soul, moving my family frequently, often across the country, always looking for something better. It felt like failure at the time, the inability to find peace and contentment. Even now, looking back, I don’t understand why we ended up in some of the places we did.

It became a running joke among our family and friends: “How long are they going to stay this time?”. We didn’t fit the typical American dream scenario of settling down, buying a home, raising a family, and setting permanent roots. There are probably some people who would look at our life and consider it a failure, a cautionary tale of what not to do, and perhaps in a sense they may have a point. But then I consider what we would have missed if we had ‘settled’.

We would have missed some wonderful friendships that we built over the years, friends who are still dear, if not near, to us. We would have missed all the lessons we learned from folks who had different experiences than we did. We would have missed all the amazing places on this beautiful planet that we were privileged to share for a time. In short, we would have been much smaller and much poorer for not having those experiences.

When we tell others about our lived experiences, it is not to boast, and hopefully not to bore. It’s a privilege to share those things with others who have not, and may never, experience them on their own. The memories are dear to us, treasures from which we hope others can derive some momentary enjoyment. I hope that when someone meets me they see more than an old man who tells boring old stories. Rita and I have enjoyed an amazingly ordinary life, but amazing nonetheless, and I thank you for the privilege of allowing me to share a small part of it with you.