Lesson #5: Take Time, Make Time

A year or so ago the pastor of the church I attend delivered a revealing message that could be boiled down to the assertion that whatever it is to which you give the majority of your time is arguably what you care about the most. In other words, if you ranked the activities that, and people who, comprise your average week by time allotted, it would likely resemble the level of concern and importance you assign them, whether you like it or not.

Now, like everything in life, there are certainly exceptions. Sometimes work schedules conflict – we don't all live the Dolly Parton 9-to-5 lifestyle (or probably any Dolly Parton-related lifestyle, unless of course you own a theme park that bears your name, or you're still getting nipped and tucked at 65+) – so even if you fiercely tried, it might be simply unfeasible to be around a cherished one for more hours than you each work. Or in my current case, I live 400 miles away from my parents, so while we communicate multiple times each week, the aggregate time given them overwhelmingly pales in comparison to the 40 hours per week I give my employer – but that's hardly a fair representation of my priorities (sorry, Turner – let's keep things professional).

The rare exceptions aside, that principle holds more veracity than is comfortable accepting. And it makes sense, right? I mean, the more you enjoy something/someone, or the higher value and regard you give something/someone, the more time you'll naturally give it/him/her/them.

Well, thank the Lord my parents understood this little nugget of truth and ensured they apportioned their time according to their life concerns.

I often tell people that I never had a need growing up that wasn't met. Sure, I had plenty of wants that went unfulfilled – a trampoline, a slip-n-slide, a Power Wheels truck (but, hey, that's what neighborhood friends are for, right?) – and of course plenty of them were granted, but I always had a meal prepared, I always had clothes to wear, I always had the school supplies demanded, and most importantly I always had the time and attention of my parents.

I'm a fervent believer that time and attention trump all tangibles you can give someone. They're also the easiest things you can give someone – and, oh hey, they're free. Yet we colossally suck at giving either to anyone. Sadly, I don't see that changing, as technology and social media continue to evolve in a way that chiefly leads to the wasting of our time and diversion of our attention to the constant buzzing and beeping and tweeting about principally meaningless matters that we nevertheless feel warrant our immediate focus. (Are my eyebrows getting wiry? I feel like Andy Rooney.)

All that to say my parents served me up all the time and attention I could ask for on a silver platter. And is there a childhood need greater than those two offerings? My dad tossed baseball with me in the backyard. My mom read with me on the couch. My dad played rounds of golf with me. My mom taught me at home from fourth through eighth grade. My dad battled against me in chess and checkers. My mom battled against me in games from the '70s you’ve never heard of, like Flinch and Pente. They both took me shopping; attended 99% of my baseball games, no matter how many counties or states away the baseball fields were; and just talked, listened, asked, and advised.

I can't recall a single time I came to them with a request, a question, a need to talk, or a want to do something and hearing a "no." There were no replies of "I've got too much work to do" or "I'm watching TV right now" or "I don't really feel like it." Rather, I felt assured that their time was my time, that I was their priority, and that, true or not, their desire to watch another Gene Kelly flick or read another David McCullough biography or sketch another art piece unfailingly took a backseat to throwing baseball with me or building hotels on Park Place and Marvin Gardens with me.

We just don't have much time here. And the everydayness of life demands our coveted attention. So giving either of those precious, limited commodities to the key folks in our lives is the ultimate display of love and respect. It's how you show people they matter, where they rank in your priorities.

Thankfully I'm perpetually left unquestioning where I rank with my parents' priorities. Hope that backseat is comfortable, Gene Kelly and every program on the History Channel.