I should be in bed, but I’ve had this running through my head this evening.

Rewind to last Wednesday: I was about to head out to dinner for my neighbor’s birthday.  I get in the car — I had just been driving it all of three minutes before — turn the key, and all I get is a repeated electric “click.”

Uh-oh.

I figured the starter got killed.  It had been pouring rain earlier, so I thought I had, in some freak incident, managed to short it out and fry it.  A few helpful neighbors tried to jump it, but I knew it wouldn’t work.  A friend even offered to use her AAA membership to get me a free tow (she was going to dinner with me, so technically she was in the car and we were completely within the rules).  Eventually I had it towed at my own expense since my insurance covers it.

It turns out it was just some corrosion on one of the electical connections to the starter.  $95 for labor and $65 for a tow, and I was good to go.

Fast forward to Monday night.  I left my briefcase in my car over the weekend.  I’ve had a habit of doing that, and I usually lock the car up even though i live in a ridiculously safe neighborhood.  I had gotten into the car late in the evening, and apparently failed to lock it up.

This morning, I opened my driver’s side door to find the glove box and the dashboard storage wide open.  And the briefcase?  Gone.  No big deal, it’s a $20 Wal-Mart special.  What stung was the fact that my Zune and my Sansa were both in it.  For those counting, that’s $250 worth of electronics on top of $160 for car repairs.

I could have been upset.  At first I was, but I knew it was my own fault.  But as I steamed my way to work after filing a police report, I started to gain some perspective on the situation.  I have a home.  My car runs.  I don’t live paycheck to paycheck.  I’ve got an awesome job and the best friends in the world, hands down.  And, above all else, I have a child who is my entire world.  She’s safe and I’m safe.  When it all comes down to it, nothing that actually matters has changed; God doesn’t care about my electronic toys.

It got me thinking deeper, though.  I came to a realization tonight, which ultimately is the reason I’m not already off dreaming about something random.

Think about this for a while: if I wake up tomorrow, I’ve been given the gift of another day filled with untold adventures and lessons from God.  If I don’t wake up in the morning, I finally get to meet my Savior face to face.

Bottom line: if every day is a gift from God, then there is no such thing as a bad day.

I enjoy my life.  There’s not much I have to complain about, aside from a pending divorce.  But of the few things about my life that I could actually say suck — and it’s generally a relative concept, as in, “relative to winning a million dollars on the same day a Belgian supermodel falls in love with me, not having a garage is kinda crappy” — there’s one that stands out and truly pains me every day.  It’s the fact that I can’t save the world.  By God, I’ll try my best, but I’m just me.  And the only man who can do it hasn’t come back yet.

But, yes, not being able to fix what’s wrong truly burdens my heart.  I see so much war, crime, bigotry and just general hate in the world, and I want to tell these people that it is the meek, humble and compassionate who shall inherit the earth, not the dictators and warmongers.

But there is something I can help fix, and I’m going to do all in my power to do so.  And you can help.

You all know I’m a single father, and we’re hundreds of miles from our nearest family.  My life revolves around that little girl, and I spend most of my time worrying about her.  When she has the sniffles, my heart aches for her.  When she cries for her “Dedo,” I want to cry too.  All minor, passing afflictions, to be sure, but she’s not just someone who depends on me; she’s part of me.

It’s that build-up that brings me to Katie Fitch, a beautiful little three-year-old from Florence, South Carolina.

See, Katie has hepatoblastoma.  Don’t try to say it, or you might wind up with your tongue in a splint.  But, essentially, it’s a cancerous tumor of the liver.  Cancer.  In a three-year-old.

My next-door neighbor and close friend is a pediatric nurse who deals with cancer patients all the time.  I have no idea how she can see this stuff on a regular basis and be anything more than a basket case for her entire shift — I merely read a story about someone and almost broke down crying in part because of the innocent child being afflicted with such a horror, and also because I can’t do anything about it.

Katie’s family is taking donations; you can contribute directly from the Web site they’ve set up for her.  I ask anyone who can give to do so.  Help make a future for someone who doesn’t even really have a past yet.  I implore you to find some way to scrape up a donation, even if it’s only a few bucks you scraped together by foregoing a cup of coffee, a Big Mac or a pack of cigarettes.  And please, tell your friends and family.

None of us can save the world.  But if everyone tried to save a small slice of it, we wouldn’t just save it — we’d make it infinitely better.

You can read all about young Katie and make a donation at KatieFitch.com.

Do I really look that old?
We often develop close relationships with the people around us at our jobs.  Those relationships, though (in Information Technology, at least) are usually tightly based on alcohol consumption, and not so much on actual personal knowledge of one another.  On my birthday a week ago, at a small celebration in my honor held by my manager and open to my coworkers, a friend speculated on my age.

He guessed 35.

D’oh!

I decided to let him live, but that wasn’t a decision I came to lightly.  I think it was based largely on the fact that there were several witnesses (if you so much as say “cake” in an IT department, you better have experience running with the bulls in Pamplona).

And They Partied On…And On…
I vowed this year that I would make up for last year’s birthday — the only way my 27th could have sucked worse is if someone had kicked me in the cajones, repeatedly, the entire day.  So, with that in mind, the party kicked off on Monday, August 11.  A trip to the beach — the Outer Banks is my new Favorite Place On Earth™ — launched the festivities.  A week of U.S. Olympic triumph, presumably in my honor, then ensued.

We won’t go into all the details — no, there was no debauchery, but there was food, music, general fun to be had by all, and even a $10 prize for finishing third in a beer pong tournament at a local bar.  I finally let the party give up the ghost on Monday, August 18, sometime around 11:45 p.m.  And, I’ve got to say, I think it ended a little too soon.  I had a semi-crappy 19th birthday too, so I still have a little bit of karmic make-up to do.

Answer me this: how do you read that statement?

Do you see it saying, "any level of effort is good enough, as long as you are trying," or does it say, "doing nothing is not acceptable?"

To me, these two are mutual exclusive when it comes to living as a Christian.  While God understands we are fallible and we will sin, screw up, let him down, and generally not live our lives as we should, the simple fact of the matter is that everything we do should be done to glorify God.  Simply being a good person — i.e., "any level of effort, as long as you try" — will not find you favor with God.  First Corinthians 13:3 says, "If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing."  In other words, if we do not love God, and do not love our brethren as He loves us, all the good deeds we can do mean absolutely nothing.  Our deeds need to reflect God, but also need to be done directly, actively and clearly glorify Him.

It's not complicated.  All you need to ask is whether you are doing your deeds for God's gain, or for your own.  For, when you die, your deeds for yourself may be remembered on Earth, but are forgotten in the eyes of Heaven.  And if you've spent your life doing seemingly good deeds — giving to charities, working to eradicate disease or developing new technologies to improve the quality of life — and your intentions were never to extend God's reach into the community, your deeds are no better than the evilest of evil — and, therefore, are unacceptable.

The line is a fine one: it's not what you do, it's what is in your heart.  If you have a prideful heart that strives to bring glory to yourself, you will not find the tiniest shred of peace in the eternity you've dealt yourself.  But if you have a humble heart, that of a servant in a life where God is the master, your eternity will be one of peace and unimaginable joy.

It's not what you have done for man, but what you have done for God, that counts.  Because, by doing good deeds for man, you show that man can be compassionate.  By doing good things for God, and letting your deeds for God shine with the glory of the Father, you show that God is Love.

I was having trouble coming up with a good topic for the first weekly installment of The Journey.  Then, I spent about 30 minutes on the phone with one of my favorite people, and as I passed along some advice on life, I thought about something my mom once said to me: you can't be happy with anything else until you're happy with you.

The problem most of us face isn't the desire to be happy.  Few people, aside from the unlucky minority who have just totally given up, could ever honestly say that they don't want to be happy.  The hard part is finding out how.  And, the longer you search in vain, the harder it becomes to find the path to your happiness.

Having been through years of depression, and having found my way out of it by no means other than my own overwhelming desire to laugh until I cried again — to live this life, rather than just move from one work day to the next — I feel like I'm at least remotely qualified to say this.

We all think, because of this world we live in today where everything is available instantly, that there is some magical way to find happiness.  Maybe there is, but don't count on it.  The big-ticket item probably isn't going to give you an ounce of long-term happiness.  A vacation, a new house, a new car, having a child…they may bring you happiness now, but they aren't going to fix you.  You're treating the symptom rather than the disease..

Okay, so I haven't mentioned God up to this point, and The Journey is all about my spiritual journey.  So here goes.  God's timing almost always means one thing: the big fix is going to take a long, long time.  God wants us to find happiness in Him, but he also wants us to learn from what valleys we walk through.  Chances are good that he's not going to put a Big, Red Button™ in front of us.  Instead, we're going to have to take baby steps.  He'll reveal a piece of the puzzle here, and another one there, and at the same time he'll make us look back at all the pieces we've already put together to remember where we are.  In the end, it's just foolishness to expect the home run from God when we need to find a way to make a major change in ourselves — in this case, being content with who we are.

Which brings this whole thing around, full circle.  When we're looking for instant happiness, that's something we can buy.  But the moment — the glory — is fleeting.  It's the lessons learned through struggle that will stick with us and continue to bring us happiness for the rest of our lives.  And, to stick with the analogy, no one remembers the home run forever.  They just happen way too often to be worth remembering.  But, when you're down by one run in the bottom of the ninth, you have a runner on third, and the pitcher is stepping up to the plate, everyone will remember the little tap down the first-base line that gave just enough time for the runner to make it home.

Much in the same way, keep this in mind when it comes to learning how to be happy with who you are: legends aren't made with dime-a-dozen home runs.  Your best choice isn't always swinging for the upper deck.  Sometimes you've got to bunt.