It’s 5pm on a Friday afternoon. Your car is warm from bathing in the sun all day while “Everybody’s Working For The Weekend” streams through your radio. Time for a cold beer or an evening to unwind. Your next 48 hours are full of freedom.
I know, it’s difficult for someone who works from home to give a little spiel about the “ball and chain” of an employee to their employer. However, there was a time in my life, pre-pandemic, where the Sunday Scaries were in full affect. Working from home offers a whole new tray table of flexibility, reality, and balance when it comes to living. A wise woman once told me, “You should work to live NOT live to work.” Every country singer has told you that “you can’t take it with you when you go” so what’s the point of “work, work, all day long.” Get out. See the world. Enjoy the views and use those Sundays.
Lately, I’ve been in several golf tournaments (let’s not talk about flight payouts). Most tournaments are Saturdays or Sundays which makes it difficult to find partners who don’t have previous commitments. People only have two days to pack in family visits before school starts. Two days to fold laundry AND put it away. Two days to build a deck, mow the lawn, can pickles, catch up with friends, clean the closet, and don’t forget, take time for yourself. After this Sunday’s tournament, I sat around with locals sipping White Claws and Busch Lights convincing the crew to pack up the clubs for one more round of 9 holes. As time traveled on and the tower of cans grew taller, I thought, what a way to spend a Sunday. Most people want to be tucked away prepping for the week ahead fighting the anxiety of Monday morning. But why waste those precious afternoon hours preparing when you could be daring? Daring to have a good story for the coworkers. Daring to take those kiddos to the playground to run off that energy. Daring to be different and live in the moment. The last day of the weekend sneaks up on us fast so be sure to fully enjoy the ride. Monday is going to come whether you are ready or not.
BeThat Person
My oldest niece walked out the door to her first day of Kindergarten this week. Before she took that big girl step, she posed for a picture with the traditional “Back To School” sign that stated her favorite song was: “We Didn’t Start The Fire.” A 5-year-old whose favorite song was released in 1989. Granted, she’s probably referring to the remix by Fall Out Boy released this year (equally as classic) but her young mind was influenced by her aunt with a very old soul. On that morning, I was likely flipping through my TikTok page waiting for the coffee to brew. I was no where near her, yet my influence (for better or worse) was still in her mind miles away. That small action makes me want to be that person. You know who introduced me to that song? My high school history teacher, Greg Sherman. He was that person. He impacted so many lives throughout his years of teaching, coaching, and giving back to the community translating onto many generations to come. He was a person you could count on. He was a friend you could laugh with. He was a parent, husband, and grandpa who influenced so many young minds with his kind gestures and love for life, past and present. He influenced me to be that person along with so many other teachers and parents in my hometown. Be that person who buys a round for the bar. Be that person who provides snacks on your friends’ boat. Be that person who golfs with the neighbors they’ve never met. Be that person who uses their Sundays to the fullest potential.
While it’s easy to put off while we’re still living, I challenge you to think about your reputation when you’re 6 feet under. “… everybody dies but not everybody lives.” Do you want to be a person whose last day is their funeral? Or would you rather be the person who is talked about long after God invites you home? My choice? I want to be that person. That person who left more impressions than the size of smile on her face. That person who treated people with kindness unless they had another thing coming. That person who hopped in the car, no questions asked. That person who unquestionably used her Sundays.
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