If someone asked me what gives me direction in life, I could point to many things. My faith. My family. My career. My writing. All have shaped the man I am today. Yet, if I’m honest, the compass that guides my life was placed in my hands long before I understood how to read it.
It was given to me by my parents.
They sacrificed more than I understood at the time to provide my siblings and me with a blueprint for life. Both instilled a strong work ethic and the belief that if a job was worth doing, it was worth doing to the best of your ability. Mediocrity simply wasn’t an option in our home.
My father taught himself to read before earning a college degree. He showed me that determination could overcome circumstances. My mother created a home built on steadiness, grace, and quiet strength. She had an incredible ability to remain calm when life became chaotic, and she approached every task with care and purpose. I watched her create beautiful things, never rushing the process. Even then, she was teaching me that the journey mattered as much as the destination.
The greatest gift they gave me, other than life itself, was a steadfast faith in the Almighty. We each followed our own path, but they taught us that we were part of something far greater than the four walls of our home or the borders of our hometown. They weren’t simply pointing me toward a destination—they were teaching me how to find my way.
Like many young people, I believed I needed to discover life on my own. I pushed against some of the lessons I had been taught, convinced I knew better. Looking back, I smile because I watched my own children do much the same thing. There seems to come a point when every generation believes it has discovered something entirely new, only to realize years later that their parents may have known a thing or two after all.
For me, that realization came after my father passed away. It was then I understood I could no longer rely on the compass they carried for me. I had to learn to trust the one they had already placed in my hands. The lessons I had inherited became the principles I chose to live by.
At first, I believed serving in the military was enough. Later, I realized it was only one expression of a much larger responsibility. My direction—or perhaps my personal code—is simple: leave the world a little better than I found it.
Today, that compass influences everything I do. It guides how I treat people, how I approach my work, and how I write. I don’t expect to change the world, but I hope my words encourage someone to think a little deeper, consider another perspective, or leave with a greater understanding than when they arrived. If I can do that, then I’ve done my part.
The funny thing about a person’s code is that it changes over time. It should. Experience, failure, faith, and wisdom all have a hand in refining it. A good compass doesn’t change true north; it simply helps us recognize it more clearly. I think that’s what my parents were really giving me all those years ago.
Memoirs of Madness 