It was a great travel week. The type I haven’t had in a while. Two years to be exact. Pre-COVID, I would travel about twice a month somewhere in our operational footprint of PA, OH, MD, WV, NC, SC, VA, and Washington DC. It enabled me to serve my teammates and clients with excellence as well as maintain a healthy balance with my commitments to my family and community. It’s nice to have a convenient virtual option to meet nowadays, however, nothing beats an in-person conversation and connection. I am so grateful that life is “opening up” again. There’s a lot to like about the “new normal.”
Two of my meetings this week were dinners with insurance colleagues. Like me, they are sensitive to time away from family in the evenings. Like my wife, their wives decided to place their professional careers on hold to raise the kids. The first dinner involved a party of six. The second dinner involved a party of two.
During the first dinner, a thought crossed my mind to allow my insurance teammate to order a dessert for his wife to take home. My wife and daughter always appreciate it when I surprise them with dessert. However, there were four other guests at the table, and I decided against it because I would want to extend the offer to everyone at the table and that would be excessive. In hindsight, I wish I would have made the offer.
I felt bad about my “dessert decision” the previous evening, and I wanted to learn from it. During the second dinner, it was on my mind. If the opportunity presented itself, I would extend the offer. This dinner was with a new sales recruit, and I didn’t really know much about him. During the course of the conversation, I learned while he was enjoying a nice dinner, his wife was at home watching their 2-year-old and was also 5-months into a difficult pregnancy. As we were wrapping up our meals, our server asked, “Do you have room for dessert?” Both of us declined, but that was the moment I was waiting for. “Do you think your wife would like a dessert? My wife and daughter always love when I bring them something home.”
He paused before replying, “Well, she probably would, but that’s not necessary. I appreciate the offer, however.“
“I know it’s not necessary, but I’ve learned not to take moments like these for granted. It will let her know you thought of her and care about her. It will say you love her louder than any words can say. What does she like?“
“Key lime pie,” he answered. I turned to the server and said, “We’ll have a key lime pie to go.“
As I’ve matured in life, I’ve learned what really matters. Once I thought certain things were valuable, but now I consider them worthless. Before I met Jesus Christ and forged a relationship with Him, my career and making money were the most important things. Now they are worthless when compared with the infinite value of knowing Him.
Here’s a good question to ask when you’re distracted by worthless things: How much will this matter in 100 years? Many things won’t matter tomorrow, much less for eternity.
In this instance, the key lime pie was an expression of love. We all owe a debt to love one another for whoever loves others has fulfilled the law. That matters today, tomorrow, and forever.
PS: To my other insurance teammate to whom I failed to extend the offer, I’ll make it up to you. I promise.