What I’ve come to realize is that there is literally no perfect time, and most times are very imperfect as a choice.  Right now my daughter has a broken finger that is not healing, my son has the flu, my husband is overwhelmed by work and badly needs a haircut, and I have a sore throat and feel guilty I’m not spending time with my sick child (who just wants to be on his iPad anyway because he feels so lousy.) But my dream is to get my writing and coaching out more fully into the world, as well as relaunch my performing career. I have some important deadlines, so I am at my desk working.  Have I washed my hair?  No.  Have I been to church much in the past few months?  Um nope.  Are dinners starting to look strange again, because they consist of odds and sods from the fridge?  Yes.  But I feel alive in a way that I would not have if I hadn’t insisted that NOW is the time to commit 1,000% to work that matters to me, even if I drop some balls. Now is not the time to rearrange my spices or spends hours on Facebook or offer to volunteer for something.  Just as going to Target is, what my husband calls, “death by 1,000 paper cuts,” since all those cheap items add up to A LOT at the register, all of the little things we do on our “to do” lists add up to a whole lot of nothing unless we’re careful.

It helps me to remember that Mozart wrote beautiful music while mostly broke, and he didn’t wait to get all of his finances in order to compose.  Beethoven wrote while deaf, and he didn’t wait for a cure to get going.  He sawed the legs off his piano to hear the floor vibrations.  Louisa May Alcott didn’t wait until she recovered from mercury poisoning or had found a suitable husband in order to write.  Eleanor Roosevelt didn’t wait until she was pretty or had others’ approval before she became one of the greatest stateswomen of our time. And, great artists ranging from Alvin Ailey to Jackson Pollack to Nina Simone to Frank Sinatra all had bi-polar disorder. But they did their art anyway and the world benefitted from their genius.  Instead of hiding, they did what Carrie Fisher advised: “Take your broken heart and turn it into art.”

The fact is, someday when we die, are people going to comment on how organized your desk was or how detailed your packing lists were?  Or, are they going to remember that your face lit up when you saw your kids and that you took that trip to travel the world and that you started that business and wrote that book and got back onstage and sang? To find your world stage, remember that the time is now, even though nothing is ever perfect about right now.  Grab this moment anyway, in all of its messy imperfection, and don’t let go.  This is your chance to make your mark.  Now go do it.

The next day I was feeling sorry for myself because my husband and I are applying for a HELOC and have discovered all sorts of legal errors from our past mortgage that was never discharged and recorded properly.  After four hours on the phone and doing research, we still felt like we were spinning our wheels.  It just felt awful to waste all that time trying to address a problem that I couldn’t figure out how to solve yet and that was based on other people’s errors.  And then I thought of the children of Aleppo.  I looked up the images of children stumbling through the wreckage covered in blood, searching for their parents.  And then I felt ashamed for forgetting about the people who are really struggling.

I’ve heard Americans laugh about how they only have first world problems, as though only people in third world countries suffer.  While it is true that we have clean sources of water and access to vaccines, the United States still has one of the highest percentages of children living in poverty in the world, which is shameful given how rich our country is.  And even in wealthier communities, there is still suffering.  My neighbor Anne died of breast cancer at age 40 a few weeks before her oldest child started first grade this fall.  Her younger child is probably too young to remember her.

The problem with our culture is that we have this belief that if we work hard enough and focus enough, nothing bad will happen.  We will have perfect abs in 15 minutes per day.  We will make millions while working 4 hours per week, sitting on a beach.  We will always look 25 no matter our age and we will always be happy.  This is the world that Facebook shows, but most of us know that it isn’t real.  The fact is that we have very little control over so much of our lives, in small things and large things.  I can’t control that my son broke our dishwasher playing with a friend, that kids in middle school can be mean, that some people are rude and have bad manners, that the weather in Boston changes every five seconds, and that drivers are crazy and unpredictable.  I also can’t control that I have suffered from unremitting eye pain for 5 years, and no amount of wishing or praying or trying makes it different.  But I can remember that when I am struggling, whether with the drudgery of life or the fact of living with pain, that I can remember Aleppo.  I can focus on the people who need us the most, whether the woman in the grocery store or the children searching in the rubble.

To find your world stage, remember that the reason to strive for greatness is so that you can help others to see their own.  Striving to become rich is an empty goal unless you have a larger mission like Bill Gates, using his money to reach so much of the world.  Trying to be famous so more people will like you (and LIKE you and FRIEND you) is an empty goal.  But becoming known so that you can have a greater impact is something worth striving for.  This week, when you feel down or overwhelmed or frustrated, remember Aleppo, and it will put it all in perspective.

I used the lesson I learned that day to focus on the moment while I was parenting young children, reminding myself that there is only one moment when they say their first word (“Mama” for my daughter and “ball” for my son), or when they take their first steps, or when they start really talking or go off to kindergarten for the first time.  I knew how tired and distracted I was, so I reminded myself constantly to pay attention.  Now that my kids are 13 and 11, I’m grateful that I didn’t have a smart phone when they were little- it would have been too hard for me to just be present.  But even with older kids who themselves want to be distracted all the time by computers and phones, it’s such a gift to put everything down and just listen.

Now I know that not every second of life is worthy of paying attention.  Frankly, when I’m at the dentist or on hold for some repairman, I almost need to zone out for my sanity.  Not every moment in life is supposed to be gorgeous and perfect. Sometimes life can be boring or hard, and sometimes not being so present is actually easier, like when you’re in pain or had a really bad day. Distraction can be a gift too.

But one of the things I’ve done with my kids from day one is to write down the funny things they say, and record them singing songs and telling stories.  I also make a point of showing them clouds shifting in the sky or trees that are shimmering gold in the late autumn light.  We always notice wobbly babies who are newly walking and little tiny puppies.  In our sad, broken world, it’s easy to forget that there is still so much goodness,  and that we don’t have to be famous or cure cancer to lead worthy lives.

So as you think about what work is meaningful to you and how you will find your world stage, think about the ultimate gift which is to be present, for your own sake, but also for the sake of others.  In this noisy, chaotic world, we humans need more people who are kind and joyful, and who understand that the greatest present you can give anyone is to be in the moment.  So as we move into the holiday season, think about how your season can reflect not just the gift of generosity, but also the gift of your truly being present.  If you do that, everyone around you will notice and no one will forget.

Stanford Memorial Church