I was so focused on working to  control  the day ...I'd lost the ability to  live in it.

This past Saturday afternoon, the clouds disappeared, the sun came out, and the wind settled. A beautiful day. Luke, my 13-year-old, and I found ourselves walking the quiet, moderately paved road next to our home.

Most of the family was inside watching football, baking or napping. His youngest brother was at Six Flags with a friend.

The first couple of miles were fun. Easy and simple conversation. A neighbor rolled up beside us in his white Chevy with their young boys, windows down. We shared a quick, cheerful hello.

We "mooed" at the cows in the pasture wondering if we could get them to moo back. We laughed when they just stared at us. Luke explained what kind of cows they were and shared a few facts he’d learned from Mr. Keith in Ag class. We talked about school, his basketball team, and the last few days of the semester.

Around mile two and a half, the conversation slowed. It got quiet. My mind wandered…not in a peaceful way, but in a responsible, adult way.

Instead of enjoying the sun, the walk, or my son beside me, my thoughts jumped to the holiday week ahead. Travel plans. Oil changes. Dogs. Schedules. Events at Lone Oak. Then, inevitably, Christmas.

What did we get each kid? Would they like it? Would they use it? Too much? Too little?

I thought about the life we've created for our kids. Not in a positive way...should we be doing more for them. Traveling, seeing, doing. Finding more opportunities they can experience to "get them ahead" in the life they'll choose to live. 

I looked at Luke and asked, “Do you ever feel like you’ve gone without?”

He looked back a little puzzled by my question, “Without what?”

I tried to explain, but I struggled with an explanation, “Your brother is at Six Flags for the first time. He's 11. You’ve never been. Some time I feel like we've not given you enough. Do you think you’ve gone ‘without?’”

He paused. I could tell he was thinking about the variety of avenues this could take. It was a difficult concept for someone his age. Then he said something I won’t forget:

“Well, won't we always be without something. We can always do, or have, more, right? Another trip to the beach. Another night in a cabin in the mountains. Another bike. Another car. It’s endless. You can always have more.”

He was right.

So he allowed me some encouragement.

Yes, my kids have gone without. We could always buy more. Bigger gifts. Longer vacations. Travel farther (or at all). Spend more.

But the idea of “I’ll never let our kids go without" has no finish line. There will always be another comparison, another opportunity, another upgrade waiting just beyond what we’ve already done.

Somewhere along that walk, I had drifted away from what this week, and this season, is actually about. My gratitude for an understanding spouse. The fact that my kids are healthy. That my legs and lungs work. That my neighbors are kind. That my 13 year old son still chooses to walk and talk with me. That we live on a quiet road. That we have generous grandparents. That the sun was warm. And yes, that this season begins with the birth of Jesus (how easily we forget).

None of that was present in my moment of quiet, internal concern—what I’d call social media despair.

I was so focused on working to  control  the day ...I'd lost the ability to  live in it.

And maybe that’s the real question this week.

As billions of dollars are spent on gifts, food, fuel, and cards, perhaps the better measure isn’t whether we bought enough presents—but rather, whether those around us will get enough of us. Our attention. Our presence. Our gratitude. Because long after the gifts are forgotten (on average 24-48 hours post opening), those other moments still matter. 

...like "the time we tried to make the cows moo back."

Those moments might actually be the reason our kids never feel as if they went without.

Remain Encouraged!

Merry Christmas from everyone at Lone Oak!

Brian