I saw a clip of Donald Miller talking about one of the benefits in becoming a parent later in life. He said he’s gained greater perspective and wisdom to care for his kids in the right way.
Specifically, he spoke of developing the “eulogy virtues over the résumé virtues.” So early and often in his younger days (as a single man) he would prioritize his career. Building success, achieving results, ascending the ladder and salary scales. In many ways, he was looking to proverbially pad his résumé as he figured it would result in fulfillment and self-worth.
As he entered his early 40s, he settled down and got married and started a family. And he realized, soon enough, that none of that really matters. Especially not to your loved ones.
He talks about death and dying, and how those who will remember us will not speak of us in terms of our achievements (“Wow he made $5 million dollars over his lifetime” or “He became CEO at such an early age). No, they will always share about how we were to them as a human being. Did we treat them out for coffee often? Did we spend time by their side when they were sick or grieving? Were we a good listener? Did we show kindness and love in ways both tangible and not?
To fast forward our lives to the end and truly see what’s important, he says, is to discover that our virtues ought to orient around our eulogy over our resume.
I felt this tension ever so imperceptibly in my former days working corporate. Even before having kids, I felt that my career was becoming something of a golden calf. It was long hours, high stress, dealing with office politics, and trying to jump for the next level-up either by title or cash…all for what?
It dawned on me one day. I looked at my boss’s life and realized that getting to his level was neither something I wanted nor something I was suited for. Where was I meant to flourish? And how might whatever it is that I found myself in next be something that supports (and not hinders) my commitment to faith and family?
I’ve seen far too many people around me sacrifice relationships at the altar of money and success. Perhaps I had been tempted myself to follow the same track. Yet I’ve come to realize, especially more so now as a father, that being a parent is the only job in the world where I am not expendable.
I can always be replaced as a employee, minister, even as a friend. But my kids only have one dad in the entire universe. And I don’t want to neglect that role only to invest my life in places where I can be replaced in a heartbeat.
I don’t know where many of us find ourselves in this rat race. I do empathize, it’s a difficult balance for sure. But I hope that we are able to take a step back, slow down, and reassess what’s truly important in life.
Nobody will speak of our accomplishments when we die. They will only remember how kind, caring, present and loving we were.
As we still have today, might we begin to orient life around those proper values.