What really counts in life
Sitting in front of me is a man, I realize, who is my senior by several decades. It is a bit humbling to think that he would seek me out for help and counseling.
It's not really help he wants, though, but someone to listen. Someone to listen and, perhaps, someone to offer him a bit of reassurance.
He tells me his life's story. And it is certainly a fascinating tale. He has been a success at almost everything he has tried. School, sports, business, even local politics - he has always excelled. He married young, and stayed married to the same woman until her death a few years ago.
His children are grown, successful, and he thinks, reasonably happy. He has traveled the world and had experiences most of us can only imagine. For a man his age, he is healthy and quite active.
But he didn't come in to brag.
"That's all well and good," he concludes. "But...," he struggles for the right words, "who will remember me?"
His question encompasses a good many others: who had he been close to? in whose life had he really made a difference? who had he loved, and been loved by?
Theories of individual development suggest most of us eventually reach a time in our lives when we ask these questions. It's a normal part of human existence, a stage we all reach.
The inevitability of these questions, however, does not make them any easier to address. And there is a truism underlying such questions that can make many of us uncomfortable: It seems that no matter how much time and energy we spend pursuing success in all the other arenas of our lives, when all is said and done - it is people that count. It is the quantity and quality of our relationships when we begin to question the value of the lives we have lived.
Think about that. If 10, or 20, or 30 years from now we are going to be measuring the depth of our lives with the yardstick of meaningful relationships, what would we want to change now?
Would we spend tonight catching up on office paperwork or playing with the kids? Would we call a potential client or an old friend? Would we clean the house or visit our sister across town? Would we sit down in front of the TV or sit down across from our spouse? Would we paint the garage this weekend or chaperon the church youth group?
Ok, we can't quit work, give up taking care of the house, and just spend all our time with the people we care about. I'm not suggesting that. I am pointing out that we do have some choices, and the choices we make are important. From what I hear as a therapist, the more we choose people the better off we're going to be.
A chaplain friend of mine puts it this way: "I've never heard anyone on their death bed complain they didn't spend enough time at work."
That's something to think about.
• The Rev. Ken Potts is a pastorale counselor and marriage and family therapist with Samaritan Interfaith Counseling Centers, Naperville and Downers Grove. His book, "Take One A Day," can be ordered at local bookstores or online.