What next?

What next?

It was a late Sunday morning at Brothers Restaurant in San Diego. Bored by talk about what everybody ordered for breakfast, I piped up, “So, how would you answer the pastor’s question? What is your BIG dream?”

We went around the table, and I couldn’t tell you what most of the people there responded. I just recall what I said, and what the one friend with whom I shared the most  demographic characteristics at the table said.

I nervously spouted off about hosting a podcast. Maybe one that explores how different religions address the afterlife.

My friend, who was decidedly two life stages ahead of me (though similar in age), went on to just say that he wanted to be a good dad. His BIG dream. Good dad.

I was peeved. He’s a smart guy, smarter than me. Is married, has a kid, owns San Diego real estate. Big dream is to be above average at doing something a lot of men already do. 

The pastor had specifically preached that while we should have goals, we should also have a grandiose vision (in line with God’s ways, of course). Something a little bit crazy, as Seal might sing.

Pretty sure being a “good dad” isn’t a huge out of the box pipe dream. I have a good—no, great dad—and he always had zany ideas of grandeur, particularly regarding businesses. He religiously watches Shark Tank. He did a fantastic job raising us, all while constantly fantasizing about building a real estate empire or designing mini golf courses or writing books. Cmon, dude, dream BIG!

I can guarantee you that my buddy hasn’t thought twice about his response that fateful morning. And yes almost a decade later I can confirm he’s a good dad. Dreams do come true.

But why has his terse reply stuck in my craw? Partly it’s that I recognize just how realistic he was. Really, paying the bills and raising kids is an accomplishment. Not revolutionary, but respectable and even difficult. Nothing to be ashamed of. But can’t a man still dream?

But wait, there’s more. Remember how I referred to my fatherly friend being a “couple stages” ahead of me? Implicit in this conception is that life is just a series of checking things off. He was three spaces ahead of me at the time: married, parent, homeowner. Did you ever play that game, Life? I adore the cereal, abhor the board game. You basically race around the board, checking things off the list all so you can retire (…and then what?).

When I was in high school, I’d inevitably be asked, “Where will you go to college? What will you study?” Then in college, “Poli Sci, huh? Hmm. So what are you thinking you’ll do with that?” Out of college, “Been on any dates lately? 

Think she’s the one? 

Thinking about kids? 

How are the kids? 

Where are they going? 

Are you staying here in the area now that you’re an empty nester? 

We love you, what a good dad you were to us. Here’s your grandson!

How much longer you think you can live here on your own?

We love you Dad.

Who gets the house?”

All this time thinking about the next stage in life. All this talk at family gatherings about how the job is going, how the kitchen remodel is coming, how the kids are playing on the field. But why is little to no time spent on the BIG stage? The stage after the stages we already know about so well. When we exit this Stage of Life. 

If we are so concerned about Chris’ career or Timmy’s tournament, which are fine things about which to be concerned, why aren’t we that much more interested in what will affect Chris and Timmy for way longer than a few years?

Look, whether you believe that we all just become worm food, or we face Heaven or Hell, or reincarnation, whatever, the fact is that what happens after our 70ish years here (assuming we even get that far) covers a pretty hefty portion of time. If this life is the painted fray at the end of a rope, the unpainted section after that little red string wraps around the earth over and over and over and over. We’re fixating on the colorful part with which we are familiar, while ignoring the BIG section that’s more fuzzy beyond it.

Is it that discussing what comes after death is too uncomfortable? Is it that most of us just feel so ignorant that we can’t give an intelligible answer? Or is it more that we are just caught up in the cares of this world, fixating on moving one square forward on the board? Being a good dad next?

I tend to think it’s a mix of these, but more of the latter than anything. 

Even me, these days I want to be a good husband. That’s new! I’m laying awake typing this in the wee hours of the morning, as my wife rests next to me. She has to wake up soon for her corporate job, where so many of her coworkers just want to get that title, that raise, be seen as that “good employee.” 

It’s not just about me anymore. I probably should be sleeping right now so that I can get up at a reasonable hour and find a way to make more money so as to free my distressed damsel I love from her corporate coil!

I confess that sometimes I seek to escape—in work, snacks, YouTube, to escape the BIG topics myself. They seem too overwhelming. But to eat an elephant you start with a bite. Just do something. (Hey, I wrote this).