I’m standing there watching my kids get blown up in the air. In a good way, one where they’re smiling in the adventure of indoor skydiving. Doing something so new wasn’t even considered a possibility until the day before.
At that moment, I’m grateful to have made their day possible. Thankful that I cut short my Thailand vacation by two weeks. Thankful that I skipped staying in Paris to feast upon Pierre Herme macarons.
That last sacrifice is challenging, yet the laughter and joy in the eyes of my kids help me know that I’m doing the right thing. Being there in that moment, for them.
Protected by plexiglass, an internal reflection takes me back to realizing how far I’ve come in who I am. That day represented one of sixty days in 2021 that I got to spend with my kids.
For their mother and I divorced after 20-years when our deep love turned unintentionally toxic. Yet, instead of being bitter, which I know I would’ve been was I younger. I was being in that moment of helping my kids live fully.
And it’s that purpose of living fully that keeps me going, day in and week by month as they get experienced by me. And, I’m indebted to the people that have helped me become who I am.
Interestingly, my kid’s mother started me on this path in hopes of not losing the relationship we had. Life turns in ways we don’t see.
And it’s okay, for instead of being bitter about how beauty spoiled, I learned to focus more deeply upon my priorities.
Then I deliberately used those priorities to help me make the best I can for myself and those around me every day.
I first took a couple of years to determine that my big priorities were living fully by living differently, taking better care of myself, having healthy relationships, and being an inspiring leader.
Supporting those, I genuinely choose to smile, demonstrate respect and have a purpose in all that I do.
Through the grace of relationships since my divorce and learning to become a remote dad, my daily decisions around those principles and values have become more accessible.
So, let the roar of the wind tunnel persist, for, at that moment, my kids wouldn’t be hanging in the air without so much pushing back.