Excuses or Execution

Sometimes we are so consumed with the reasons why something might not work that we undermine our own efforts to accomplish the task. It’s as if we put more energy into excuses than we do into possible solutions.

A couple weeks ago I sent my four oldest kids to shovel the driveway and decks. We do have a fairly large driveway, but the snowfall was moderate – maybe about four inches – and there would be four of them shoveling, so I figured they’d be fine. After about ten minutes, Braelynn, my oldest, comes back inside and informs me the task is insurmountable. The driveway simply couldn’t be shoveled and would probably require a solution that clearly wasn’t available to modern society. I sent her back out. A few minutes later my youngest daughter, Brooklynn, comes in and gives a similar report. There’s just too much snow and her legs are getting cold. I told her to put snowpants on over her shorts (yes, she’s in shorts, shoveling snow) and return to the job. Shortly thereafter, Ben, my middle son enters the house with another update. Apparently, whoever designed our driveway mistakenly made it too big, plus, Ben felt as if he personally was too young and his arms too tired to finish shoveling. He suggested we wait the five months for the snow to melt. Thrilled with the fantastic work ethic I have obviously instilled in my kids, I sent him back to his chores, impossible as they were. Bryson, my oldest son, was the only one who didn’t come inside with an excuse.

After a few minutes of silence with no kids coming into the house asking for a simpler task to do, such as building a manned spacecraft to send to Jupiter, I became worried some disaster had befallen my children. I went into the living room to look out the window and survey the situation. As I watched my kids, I began to realize why my offspring were having such trouble making progress. Brooklynn was on the deck trying to “shovel” with a windshield scraper/brush, essentially just sweeping the snow around. Granted, it was a large one, but still – it helps if you use a shovel, kid! Braelynn was neither shoveling nor sweeping, but rather sledding down the driveway, effectively packing down the snow and making it even harder to shovel. Way to set an example to your younger siblings. And Ben, oh sweet little Ben, he was standing on the snowbank, snowpants down around his knees, peeing onto the yard. I have no comment about that. Interestingly, Bryson, the only kid who didn’t come into to plead the futility of the assigned task, was the only one actually shoveling.

As comical as the whole scene was (well, for you anyway -  I am still wondering where I went wrong as a father), I think adults often act very much the same way. We decide a task can’t be done or is at least beyond our capability and then that becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy as we shortchange and impair our own efforts, thereby sabotaging the mission. It’s very difficult to fully invest yourself in something you’ve already convinced yourself is a failed venture.