Everybody wants a mission.
A calling.
A legacy.
Something big enough to put under a photograph of themselves staring thoughtfully at a mountain.
Meanwhile, the trash needs taking out.
Somebody you love hasn’t heard from you.
You promised you’d handle something Tuesday.
And that damn cabinet door has been hanging crooked since the Obama administration.
Maybe meaning isn’t always hiding on the other side of some enormous achievement.
Maybe sometimes it’s sitting directly in front of us disguised as responsibility.
Fix what you can reach.
If somebody’s hungry, feed them.
If you broke it, repair it.
If you were wrong, apologize.
If you said you’d be there, show up.
If the kid wants to tell you a story that apparently requires seventeen minutes of backstory about someone named Brayden you’ve never met—
listen anyway.
If somebody you love is struggling and you can’t solve it?
Sit down beside them.
You don’t need a five-year plan for every decent thing.
And you sure as hell don’t need an audience.
I’ve become increasingly suspicious of people who want to change humanity but treat the actual humans around them like inconveniences.
Big ideals are easy.
Tuesday afternoon is where character gets tested.
Faith works there too.
Not just in declarations.
In patience.
In service.
In forgiveness.
In doing the small right thing when absolutely nobody is keeping score.
We’re all surrounded by things beyond our control.
War.
Politics.
Markets.
Illness.
Loss.
Other people’s decisions.
Enough to make anybody feel powerless if you stare at the whole damn planet long enough.
So shrink the battlefield.
Look around.
What’s within arm’s reach?
Start there.
FIX WHAT YOU CAN REACH.
Then tomorrow?
Reach a little farther.
SAINT DIRTY FACE™
Imperfect on Purpose. Faithful with Fangs.
