Obligation

As treasured colleagues and I were waiting for a staff meeting to begin, we engaged in our usual banter, delightfully seasoned with jocular sagacity.  One suggested,  “Maybe you should blog about that since you haven’t yet this week.”  Ouch.  Maybe it is just a bad day of the week for me to write.  My brain began to process two reactions.  I felt flattered that he noticed; someone is reading what I have to say and cares enough to offer encouragement since I am having trouble with Tuesdays.  On the other, I felt defeated.  Someone else – other than my mother - noticed that I have been having trouble with Tuesdays.

How does that sense of obligation make me feel?  When this writing began, I thought it made me feel, well, obligated.  Obligated to something else that it seems I cannot maintain.  Something else. All of these “something elses” can create pressure-filled days and restless nights when the obligatory people and events collide.  Or run each other over.  Or blow each other up. Or crush me. So why do I continue to add the weight?  Do I think I’m Giles Corey or something? 

So I take the deep breath that Giles Corey couldn’t take and I begin to wonder. What kind of “weight” am I adding? What does “more weight” really mean? What does this “weight” represent?

To be obligated  - to people and things - is really a fortuitous treasure.  It means other people depend upon me.  It means that the things I do matter to someone other than me. At the end of the day, those feelings are phenomenal. Isn’t that the point of living life?  We should want to make as many connections with people and things as we can.  These relationships are what give our lives that elusive sense of purpose. I made a promise to myself and posed a challenge to many others who were listening to me struggle to get through a few words on October 6th, 2005.  The promise:  To forever-forward live my life, deliberately, with purpose and joy. 

So, does anyone need anything from me today?  I will winsomely oblige.