He was walking down the street, oblivious to his surroundings, absorbed in the video on his iPhone. There was no awareness of the uncovered manhole ahead, until he found himself tumbling into semi-darkness, 10-feet underground. Stunned, but coming to his senses, he yelled for someone to come to his aid, to help him out of the deep hole. He heard a voice above him – the voice of a priest. Thank God, he thought. The priest offered a prayer on his behalf, and walked on.

Do you remember the hard times – the ones you lived through and wondered how you ever got through them?

Maybe the hard time was financial scarcity…to the point of deciding whether to buy toothpaste or toilet paper with your paycheck because you couldn’t afford both. Maybe it was the breakup of a relationship…being so scared of the future and making it on your own, yet fearful of remaining in a relationship that would surely take your soul.

Water has always frightened me, probably because I grew up in land-locked Oklahoma with few opportunities to become comfortable swimming or water skiing. In the water, I felt out of my element and scared. It was okay to be “around water” …playing in the lawn sprinkler or splashing in a shallow pool, but being “in the water,” in the deep end of a pool or in a lake or ocean, well, that was a panic attack waiting to happen.

Do you ever have trouble managing distressing thoughts? While you don’t have control over the thoughts that enter your mind, you do have control over how much time they spend there.

I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve listened to another’s story of distress, fear, or grief. Each one shared with me that when talking to someone about what they were going through, the typical response went something like this: “Well, let me tell you about…my cancer diagnosis, my cousin’s cancer diagnosis, my ex, my dysfunctional boss, my struggle with depression, my loss, etc., etc…”

The medical assistant took his blood pressure. “What was it?” I asked. “I don’t know,” he said. “They didn’t tell me.” My father was raised in the era when you did what the doctor told you, no questions asked, like most people in his generation.

The medical assistant took his blood pressure. “What was it?” I asked. “I don’t know,” he said. “They didn’t tell me.” My father was raised in the era when you did what the doctor told you, no questions asked, like most people in his generation.

This quote has been our immediate family mantra for at least the past 25 years. There are similar versions of this quote, but I was told this particular quote was from the Lakota Sioux. It’s a simple saying that’s concise, clear, and at first glance – easy. But this is one of the most powerful and difficult maxims I’ve come across.

For many years now, I’ve suggested that we each have a word that is meaningful – a word that describes our focus and goals…just one word. The word I chose was “balance.” My word has never changed over time. It’s a valuable and descriptive word for me even though I never fully achieve it. But it’s always there – waiting for me to arrive.