I’m not sure if there is a world record for throwing a pity party, but at six months, I knew I was in the running for it. I was Custodian One at Pope High School and I was feeling pretty darn sorry for myself. I’m really not sure why — I should have just been glad I had a job. But I had just graduated from college and I was miserable. Cleaning toilets wasn’t a rung on my career ladder.
I had my diploma Xeroxed and taped to my trash barrel. I was as much fun to be around as a chronic flatulence sufferer in an elevator.
Sometimes you hear the right words at the right time. I was reintroduced to the Parable of the Talents — Matthew 25: 14-30. You know the story. A master cuts out of town and leaves his talents (currency) with his three servants. One gets 15. The second gets 10. And the third gets one. I’m not sure why each got a different number but the two who got more got busy, reinvested them and made the master very happy upon his return. He rewarded them with more talents. But the servant who got one panicked. He was so afraid of losing his talent, that he buried it. Needless to say, the master was irked. There was some serious gnashing of teeth. I haven’t gnashed teeth, but I assume it is bad.
I felt a cold sweat. I realized I was THAT servant. I was burying my ability to draw. I went back to work the following Monday and started drawing every which way I could. I even drew on the walls and cleaned it off. (I was a janitor after all.) Soon afterwards, doors began to open up for me. And the rest is, as they say, history. I went from being a janitor to working at The Marietta Daily Journal. I met my future mother-in-law who set me up with her daughter. My career and life were launched.
That was 23 years ago. And it is a message I need to be hear again today. As I was standing on top of the Chimney Tops in the Smoky Mountains this week, I thought about the talents I’ve been given. I once viewed it mainly as my drawing ability. But as I looked down at an eagle flying below me, I realized that maybe it was something bigger. Maybe the talent the Master gave me is time.
Yes time.
I can’t bury that gift any more. I have to make the most of every precious second I’ve been given. Yes, I need to use my literal talents like drawing, writing and speaking. But at the end of my life, I have to have used all the time I’ve been given with all the gusto I have.
I can’t bury it. I have to use it.
So it’s time to get off the couch and get busy. My talent is wasting away. It’s time to seize the day.