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2 Minutes A Day

2 Minutes A Day


Hello and good day!

I looked out of my living room window and wondered if I'd see the possum again.

Lately, I'd seen a possum running beside the fence along our front lawn, under the big bush that separates us from the street, and then on to wherever its day quarters are.

Just a month ago, the sun was already out when I woke up, and the possum would have already made its journey. As I stood by the window, hoping to see the possum (only God knows why I'd be so intent on seeing a possum), I heard the loud bang of a hydraulic air release in the distance.

The garbage truck!

I was supposed to take down our bins the night before, but I'd spent all day with my kids while my wife worked a shift in our chocolate shop.By day's end, I was pooped, and I fell asleep on the couch.

When I came out of my nap, it was too late in the evening to begin a new activity, and I couldn't escape the groggy hinterlands one occupies before fully awakening. I did a drowsy rendition of my bedtime routine and drifted off early.

Hence, my great startle upon hearing the lowering of the claw.  I sprinted to the entrance closet and threw on any two shoes I could find. Down the driveway I went, attempting to pull both large trash cans behind me, simultaneously, one with each hand.This is a high risk, advanced, technique, only recommended when the situation is dire, which mine was.

The chances of one can toppling and its contents spilling onto the ground are better than even when attempting this gambit. The one truck had already passed my house and the next was surely on its way.

I stood by the driveway waiting for the driver to pass me in reverse, so that I could wave at him, apologizing for my tardiness, and pleading with him to please grab my can, even though I brought it down late. He sighed, showing his disappointment with my lack of responsibility, but decided to be merciful.

I put my hands together and bowed, thanking him.

Just as the truck continued with its route, one of my neighbors came speed walking by. She lives up the street and wakes up early to speed walk around the lake.

"You made it!" she said. "Barely," said I.   She stopped to check her mail. The neighborhood mailbox is in front of our property. I looked up at the sky and it was still black. "Can you believe it's dark out? It was light out at this time just a few weeks ago."

"Two minutes a day," said my neighbor. "Two minutes a day? What's that?" I asked.   "We're losing two minutes of daylight at the beginning of every day now," she said. She waved goodbye and walked off fast down our dark and empty road, an arm full of mail.

Two minutes a day. That was interesting. I never thought of that before. If that is right, we lose forty minutes of morning light in just twenty days.

Can that be right?

On its own, two minutes sounds like nothing.Twenty days doesn't sound like a big deal either. But forty minutes of morning light is a lot, and we keep losing more and more every day. I can't stand around by the window for an extra forty minutes a day waiting to see the possum, that's for sure.

I walked up the driveway and into my house. The sun began to rise. The possum didn't show. And I couldn't get that number out of my mind.

Two minutes a day. Every day. It's nothing on its own, but it adds up if it happens every day.

Somebody did an ugly thing in the shopping center where one of our chocolate shops is located. They wrote the n-word on the sidewalk in the middle of a main thoroughfare. I've walked by it several times. Each time I walked by, I thought to myself, "somebody ought to do something about that." I assumed that the property manager would have a maintenance person scrub it off.

But after several days, it was still there.

I couldn't take it anymore, so I decided to get a marker from our shop and color it into a black square. As I started off towards the shop, I heard the number in my head, almost like a whisper, raspy.  

Two minutes a day. I turned on the stopwatch on my phone.  To get the marker, come back, and block out the letters on the sidewalk took almost exactly two minutes. In two minutes, I've probably kept a thousand people from looking down at something despicable.

The last time my dad was in town, he gave me a piece of very sage advice. He suggested that I buy flowers for my wife more often. In fact, he recommended that I get into the habit of bringing flowers home every single week.

I started off strong, buying a lovely bouquet the day after he gave me the advice. I then proceeded to miss the next two weeks, under the guise of being too busy. But yesterday, the magic number wisped into my consciousness.

Two minutes a day.

I had scratched out the bad word the day before. Now it was a new day. How long would it take me to go into the store, buy flowers, self-checkout, and make it back to my car?

I set the watch and it took just a little over two minutes. Nobody is too busy to find two minutes. And in two minutes, you can do something very good. Each of these little two-minute activities have a big leveraged pay off.

The flowers will sit on the counter for several 24-hour days, a constant reminder to my wife that I am still the man she would want me to be.

A thousand people will be saved the heartache of seeing that hateful word and carrying around the visual with them for the rest of the day. That is thousands of saved hours.

I leave you with a thought and a challenge. Here is the thought.

There is likely something you can do today that will only take two minutes and that will have an outsized positive impact on the world.

Here is the challenge.

Do it.

Thank you so much for your time today.

I hope that you have a truly blessed day!