How I Keep Score

Every now and then I catch myself asking a question I didn't ask ten years ago.

How am I measuring the success of my life?

I don't ask it because I've stopped caring about achievement.

Quite the opposite.

I'm a high achiever by nature.

I love learning. I love stretching my mind. Changing careers wasn't about escaping hard work, it was about finding work that would keep challenging me, keep me curious, and allow me to make a meaningful difference in other people's lives.

That part of me hasn't changed.

What has changed is how much power I give achievement to decide whether my life is going well.

For a long time, I don't think I realized I was measuring my life with a ruler I never consciously chose.

I wasn't trying to impress anyone.

I was simply operating on defaults that had been handed to me over time.

Work harder.

Stay busy.

Keep accomplishing.

Eventually you'll feel like you've made it.

The funny thing is, some of the days I'm proudest of today wouldn't have scored very well by that definition.

Sometimes it's a long walk while talking to my mom.

Sometimes it's lunch with Mike after a hike where we lose track of time because neither of us is in a hurry to be somewhere else.

Sometimes it's a text from my sister that turns an ordinary Tuesday into a really good day.

Sometimes it's looking through my camera roll and realizing I can remember exactly how a season of my life felt because of the people who were in it.

Years ago, when my mom and DaddyO moved to South Carolina, I remember thinking how brave they were.

Not because they were moving.

Because they were choosing the life they wanted instead of the one everyone expected.

That stayed with me.

Later, when work regularly brought me to Charlotte, making the extra drive to South Carolina never felt like a sacrifice.

It felt normal.

Those weekends weren't extraordinary.

They were simply the kind of life I wanted to build.

Looking back, I'm grateful I didn't wait for a better time.

I've noticed something else over the years.

Relationships don't drift into becoming strong.

They're cared for.

Sometimes that looks like sending the text first.

Sometimes it looks like putting a card in the mail because someone crossed your mind.

Sometimes it's mailing a small gift for no reason other than, "This made me think of you."

Sometimes it's being the one who plans dinner because if nobody else does, it probably won't happen.

None of those moments feel particularly important while you're living them.

Until enough years pass that you realize they quietly became your life.

That's probably the biggest shift I've made.

I still want to accomplish meaningful things.

I hope I never lose that part of myself.

I still believe in working hard, staying curious, and continuing to grow.

But achievement no longer gets the final vote.

These days, when I think about whether my life is successful, I find myself asking different questions.

Did I make time for the people I love?

Did I build a day that felt like mine?

Did I leave someone a little better than I found them?

Because I realize that a meaningful life isn't something we stumble into.

It's something we build.

Not through a handful of extraordinary decisions.

But through the ordinary ones we keep making long after no one is watching.

And when I look around at the life those ordinary choices have built, I know I'm using a much better ruler than I used to.

Before you move on, ask yourself one question:

What scorecard have I been using that I never consciously chose?

If someone came to mind while you were reading this, send them the text. Make the call. Plan the lunch. Those little things have a way of becoming the life you'll one day be grateful you built.