A Story Worth Reading


The saddest thing about life is that you don’t remember half of it.

Donald Miller

I like to tell people I have an exceptional memory. I can literally remember conversations I had in kindergarten. I can be mowing my lawn and suddenly, it’s 1978, and I’m walking Wendy Wilkie down the sidewalk trying to talk her into being my girlfriend. I remember the awkward words I chose.

Despite my bravado, studies indicate my memory is far from exceptional. The truth is our brains store only a fraction of our experiences, and even those are subject to our own “creative editing.” You can be 100% confident in your vivid memory, and still be 100% wrong.

At 57 years old, I find myself thinking about life more like a book. Flipping through the pages, I discover some chapters are super interesting—the day I became the father of twin daughters, the time I interviewed the President on a caboose, or the moment bullets whizzed by my ear during a police standoff when I was a reporter. However, most of my life—and indeed yours—is composed of ordinary days. Eating Froot Loops, buying a pair of pants, putting gas in the tank, or changing a lightbulb on the porch.

Our days are largely unremarkable.

Over lunch, a young woman surprised me with a question: “You always seem so happy. Are you?” As she stared into my eyes awaiting an answer, I hesitated. On that particular day, at that exact moment, I didn’t feel very happy. But, I started thinking about the whole book, and I replied “I really am.”

I want to encourage you today to consider the book that is your life. For some, it’s a short story just getting started. For others, it’s approaching Harry Potter status—ending unknown.

Life’s pages consist of love, laughter and joy, babies born, kisses from dogs, sunsets and chocolate ice cream. While other pages contain disappointments, loss and sadness. It’s a mixture of genres—drama, adventure, romance, comedy, and tragedy. Together, the pages tell a story uniquely your own. And you don’t need to remember every detail for it to have shaped you, stretched you, made you.

No matter where you are in your book, today’s page is blank, and it’s thirsty for new ink. Don’t squander that gift. Write a new chapter.

Make it a story worth reading.