I have always had a problem with trying to do big, important things.
It’s not a problem in that it often works – for whatever reason, many projects I’ve undertaken have been successful for just this reason. But it’s a problem because I’m often closing a door to the mundane as a result.
We as a people don’t really like the mundane, the practical. We shy away from jobs that need to be done, instead looking for the jobs that have great titles and prestige but no lasting impact. We avoid doing the two or three simple things that would ensure a life of physical well-being, opting instead to make bold New Years resolutions and try to lose 30 pounds in a month. We decide to plan elaborate parties for those we love, inviting everyone we know and spending a fortune in the process…but fail to do the simple, tiny things that make the object of our affection know that we love them every day.
We choose big and public over small and hidden. We want to do something remarkable and great – and let everyone see how remarkable and great we are in the process.
You’d think pulling it off would be enough, but it rarely is. Once we’ve tasted success, made our big score, proved to everyone that we’re smart enough or beautiful enough or talented enough to succeed…we have to do it again. We’re trapped intro thinking that the only problems that should be solved are the big ones, the only battles worth fighting are the public ones, the only lives worth leading are the admired ones.
We can’t for the life of us understand why an author or musician stops after one hit record to be a mother. We can’t comprehend why an athlete would retire after winning their first championship to join the ministry. The idea of a Fortune 500 CEO leaving their post to be a teacher? Impossible.
There are enormous problems in the world that need people’s help. But there are also tiny problems in the world that need a great many more folks pitching in. There’s the school down the road that can’t afford an after school program and could desperately use some volunteers. There’s the church looking to help feed some homeless people this weekend. There’s your father or mother or sister or brother or cousin who you got in a fight with six months ago and haven’t talked to since. There’s the boyfriend or girlfriend or husband or wife who wonders if you still love them.
Since college, I’ve been a great boyfriend and a great worker. I’ve been a lax son, an even worse friend and a miserable brother. I’ve gained 30 pounds, haven’t donated nearly enough of my time or energy or resources, and have turned down countless opportunities to do important, soul-filling work in obscurity. I’ve worked countless hours doing work with concrete, very visible deliverables, ignoring many other things in the process. My agenda has been focused on what’s big and public and remarkable, often at the expense of what’s small and unnoticed and truly worth doing.
Truth is, no one’s life is going to be improved that significantly by my interface design. No one’s life is going to be forever altered for the better because you closed that deal with the big foods conglomerate, or because you wrote that article in the paper about the top 10 places to buy a handbag.
But that $5 bill you gave that guy on the corner? That might have kept him from going hungry tonight. When you got home from work, threw your bags down, ran to your girlfriend and told her how much she meant to you? That was probably the most important thing you did all day. That prayer you said for your coworker as you were falling asleep? That could end up changing their life.
In a world where everyone is clawing to be more important, more visible, the guy who’s really blessed is the guy who’s too busy changing their world to care whether you or I are paying attention.
