I recently took my son, Alex, to his first Ohio State Football game. It wasn’t really much of a game as OSU dished out a 66-0 whooping to a painfully outmatched Kent State. But the truth is I didn’t care as much about what was happening on the gridiron as I did about what was happening in the stands.
In section 11A – row 17 – seats 27 & 28, my son and I bonded. We high fived, recapped plays to each other, ate hot dogs, spelled O-H-I-O with our arms and formed memories that will last a lifetime.
Our day in Columbus came at a cost. Tickets to OSU games are not cheap and typically resold well above their face value. Then you have to pay for parking and stadium food. A bottle of “smart water” cost $7, which is about as oxymoronic as anything I can imagine.
Beyond dollars, this game required an investment of time. For us to go to this game, I had to invest an entire Saturday. And with an ever-growing list of to-do items, my weekend time is precious and fleeting.
Even though I enjoy watching football, the thought of spending a whole Saturday accomplishing nothing defies my task-master mentality. But through this investment of time, I did accomplish something; I had a fun day with my son that the two of us will likely remember the rest of our lives.
Time is our most precious commodity – a gift that isn’t promised to us in any set amount. The only guarantee in life is that sooner or later this gift will run out. So how one invests this treasured commodity reveals a great deal about what matters most to them.
There is a Bible verse about time that is one of the guiding tenets in my life – “Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” This Psalm reminds me that my life will be short therefore I should use it wisely. For me, the wisest way I can spend my time is with my wife and children.
In order to protect my time so I can invest it where it matters, I have to establish boundaries. One time thief that continuously threatens to encroach upon the sacred hours spent with my family is my work. I strive every day to protect my family time from my work life, doing all I can to leave at my designated quitting time and to not take work home with me.
This isn’t always easy. Not taking work home means I have to be extremely regimented about how I approach my daily work load. I try to minimize my time spent in meetings where my attendance isn’t required. And when necessary, I work through my lunch. I do everything possible to ensure that I leave at my scheduled end time.
I also have to set boundaries with my own selfish desires. I can be obsessive about cleaning my car, spending hours washing, clay barring, waxing and polishing if I go unchecked. I have more bottles of cleaning products and microfiber towels than any sane man should own.
Beyond car care, I have many other interests that could eat up my time if I allowed. I have a mountain bike quietly collecting dust in my basement, resting next to my bass guitar. And I own more books than I will ever find the time to read. But I choose not to pursue any hobbies or interests that will take me away from my family.
I’ve heard a hundred times that no one ever lies upon their death bed wishing they had spent more time at work or perfecting their golf game. Having the cleanest car on the block is not the legacy I want to leave behind. Clarity comes too late for some, and although I wish I’d come to this realization sooner in my life, I have learned to number my days.
By protecting my time and treating it like the precious commodity that it is, I am able to give it to those who matter the most to me. In 10 years, I won’t remember that my car was dirty when I drove to Columbus, but I will cling tightly to the memories of the day spent with my son.