Where Your Feet Are Planted

Last weekend, we made the decision to go visit our son in the small town of Hillsboro, Kansas where he now lives and attends college.  I found myself driving through the rolling Flint Hills of Eastern Kansas.  Outside of the windows, where the hills gently rolled off into the distance, I watched as the golden grasses danced on the horizon on the backdrop of the blue October sky.  As my wife and daughter were dozing on the drive, I allowed myself to let the pace of life slow for a moment.  As the road hummed under our SUV as we floated down the highway, the fence lines creating separation from the cattle pastures and the shoulders of the highway began to trigger some memories for me - the dream birthed in me as a young boy spending the hot summer days at my grandpa’s farm that still, from time to time, attempts to take a gasping breath to come back to life.

These dreams are still real, deep, and vivid, rooted in the memories of my past.  They still smell like Southwest Missouri dirt, black angus cattle, and diesel fuel with sounds of gravel roads and the clunking of an old 1930’s Ford tractor that my grandpa rebuilt to carry the burden of the brush hogging around the farm.  The dreams started on summer visits to my grandpa’s small farm where he had just enough land to work and just enough cows to keep a young boy fascinated and intrigued with the farm and the outdoors.  My brothers and I followed him around like a shadow, watching him feed the cows, check the cows in the barn, and fix the fences.  The WWII vet, now a family man, made hard work so attractive, and the backdrop that my dreams were painted upon.  

There was something sacred about the simplicity of those summers.  The smells of the early mornings, the sounds of the summer nights as we were serenaded by peepers and the bobwhite call of the quail.  As we ran around every square inch of the farm making it our own personal playground, I wrote the script of what I thought my life would look like time after time - running around on my own farm some day, checking on my own cattle, stewarding my own little corner of the earth.  All my other childhood experiences faded into memory, but this dream stuck with me my whole life - to be honest, it’s a dream that still holds its only little space in the back of my mind.  

But as the scenic road trip gave way to the Kansas City metro area traffic, I felt a little different tug in my spirit on our way home from seeing our son.  It was a gentle reminder that I am not the sum total of where I came from, or the dreams that helped form me, or where I hoped my life would take me in the days ahead, but rather I am also responsible for where my feet are currently planted.  

I’ve heard it said many times before, that we can often get so distracted by what we perceive is greener grass on the other side that we will neglect and forget to water the grass we are standing on and that we are responsible for.  We spend far too much of our lives caught somewhere in between what was and what could be that we often dismiss what is.  I’ll confess, I’m guilty of this way more than I’d like to admit.  I hold on to the memories and the dreams of the past like a scrapbook, flipping through the mental pages over and over again.  And somewhere toward the end, it’s like the page transitions to the pictures of what the future could look like, like it's the description of some hunting adventure destination that can’t get here fast enough.  And meanwhile in all the page turning, I overlook and miss the importance of the present.  I rarely pause long enough to focus on where my feet are right now.  The reality is however, there are people that I have been trusted with in this life that depend on me to be planted right where I am, doing exactly what I’m doing.  

The truth is, my tiny corner of mid-Missouri doesn’t support my childhood farming dreams.  I’m not feeding cows in the early morning hours. My time in a tractor is pretty minimal and I haven’t sat in the cabin of the combine in several years. We sold out of the sheep business nearly six years ago now and I have had to repair the occasional fence line here and there.  But I was reminded of this past weekend’s road trip, that more importantly, I am a father, a friend, a leader, and a coach to some incredible young men.  I am a husband, a neighbor, a mentor, a student pastor, a worship leader.  I’ve been given a piece of this puzzle that makes up the world and if I don’t fulfill my pieces of the puzzle, the full picture never takes shape.  That fact doesn't change regardless if those pieces don’t paint the picture of my childhood dreams.  

As we hit mile marker 101 on I-70, the reminders kept coming.  I am learning - albeit very slowly - that these present days where we stand matter.  They matter more than we give them credit for in the noise of a world that idolizes the pursuit of dreams.  Songs are written out of the memories of days gone by, and the constructed stories of tomorrow.  No doubt more important are the gifts we have been trusted with and asked to steward well.  

Thanks to the landscape in those Flint Hills watching the sky stretched out like paint on a canvas, I felt this reminder deep in my bones.  I would dare say I even was filled with a renewed inspiration to stay locked in on today because I don’t want to miss the gift of what today could hold in the name of anticipating a future I can’t predict.  It’s possible that today is a piece of the dream, it’s just shaped a little differently than I expected it to be.  

Is it possible that the power of presence is the real pursuit?  To be fully present.  To pour our whole self into what we are doing right now.  Regardless of if that looks like, raising kids, building relationships, working hard to earn an honest living and make ends meet.  Serving our community and showing up for the people around us - the power of presence in the present matters.  

Two things can be true at the same time I suppose.  Maybe some version of the farming dream will one day come true.  The truth is that maybe it won’t.  But today, I want to be faithful with the life in front of me.  I want to focus on where my feet are right now, because God has entrusted me with it.  As I get older that’s the legacy that I want to leave more than anything.  I want to be known more for just showing up every day and doing what was needed that day with excellence.  In this season of life, that is more important to me than being the guy who just chased dreams with his life.  I want the evidence of my life to tell the story of showing up each day, right here, right now, poised to handle the task of the day.  

My prayer is that you will have a road trip soon, or a moment in your life that allows you to come to grips with this thought.  I pray that you too will take a moment to pause, look around, take inventory of your dreams, your goals, but to also be reminded of the ground that your feet are currently occupying.  Take a deep breath, and steward today well.  Don’t give up your dreams, don’t discard your memories, just be present.  Be reminded that your life is happening right now, so water the grass that you are standing on.