Today carries memories. A decade later, the lesson remains. Grandma kept the written confession here in an undated note, a shared apology by a humble and wise teacher. Let me tell you a story of a memo received, a step forward, and a lesson learned.

He is 10 years old and cautiously maneuvers the fourth grade hallway like a clever mouse secretly avoiding traps. His smile hints at popularity; his quick wit hides scars. This student is both wounded and wise. He lives, temporarily, with his grandmother.

On this particular day, his class is practicing fine motor skills using technology. What begins as a casual warm-up task evolves quickly into self-conscious failure. The boy’s effort to sketch a recognizable character on the iPad screen provokes laughter. The teacher’s impulsive snicker and reference to kindergarten level work ethic embarrasses the boy and he carries that frustrated fury home in his heart.

Anger slips quickly into the situation when this fourth grader’s intense emotions awkwardly erupt that evening in front of his grandma. Attempts at calm reassurances fail. A wound is opened. Grandma acknowledges the child’s feelings and tries to explain the concept of grace. Then she takes pen and paper and together they write a note to the young teacher expressing the child’s exasperation.

Twenty-four hours later, a written response addressed to that fourth-grader and his family arrives at grandma’s house. This is humility and compassion at its finest.

An elementary school is always a busy place; typically overflowing with facts, fiction, energetic students, good intentions, occasional chaos, talent, and devoted teachers. Achievement is a noble goal even if perfection isn’t always the outcome. Sincerity is salve for our injuries. Honest reflection offers insight. While wisdom is rarely measured accurately by test scores, learning can happen at any age.
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In this story notes are written, messages exchanged, lessons learned. This unnamed teacher will forever be the best representative of what it means to be an educator. Some trophies rest, not on the shelf, but rather in one’s heart. A lasting education will forever involve a lesson, a learner, and love.

There are mindful moments when I find myself pondering both the desire to know and the danger to remember. In a life of compelling routine and amazing surprise, I wonder how and I contemplate when. I long to set aside my prejudices in the name of understanding. I pause to wonder if there’s anything new under the sun.
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Yesterday, when driving to my destination, I appeared to make a wrong turn. The app in my car directed me to turn around, but my brain knew another way, so I continued on. As I entered the adjoining parking lot of my intended location, I saw the flashing lights that signaled a crash at the main entrance. As an outcome of my slip-up with directions, I made it to my appointment earlier instead of later. In the course of my perceived error, there was an accidental purpose that resulted in success.

What I do, as well as what I don’t do, can have a powerful impact. The role of good intentions may be worthy, but not always obvious. Plans change, mistakes happen, and inadvertent consequences may bring surprise. In a more stunning example, the significance of missing that flight might be not dying in the plane crash. Impulsively adding some extra cash to my bank account means I will avoid an overdraft for that check I failed to record. Turning right instead of left, or even a simple pause, may alter the outcome all together.

Many of society’s most well-known inventions were simply mistakes made by scientists on alternative quests. Silly putty, potato chips, post-it notes, corn flakes, laser printers, pacemakers, and even the microwave oven began as unintended consequences that evolved from accidental outcomes. In one such example, Sir Alexander Fleming was searching for a “wonder drug” that could cure diseases. However, it was only when Fleming threw away his experiments that he found what he was looking for. He noticed that a contaminated Petri dish he had discarded contained a mold that was dissolving all the bacteria around it. When he grew the mold by itself, he learned that it contained a powerful antibiotic, penicillin.

Unintended choices can have purpose. The seemingly incidental events may be more than we can know. Making more of less comes with appreciation and faith. In Ecclesiastes 3, I read that God “has planted eternity in the human heart.” In my naïve, unguarded state, I just want to know why? I want to rest until I can rise with intention and hope. Occasionally, I want to change how the story ends.

Curiosity may come with a cost, and human wisdom will have limits. Still, I value the pause. I acknowledge the power of faith. There is a sense of worship when what I see is so much more than I can understand. I marvel how the sky gargles its thunder when the storm comes. I stare in awe at the colorful sunset. Perhaps interest attracts meaning. The notion of surprise may merely be some accidental purpose demanding attention.

Today, I will commit to the prospect of eternity and the notion that life often overflows with fortuitous intention. My job is to share. Let us all faithfully pay attention to the possibilities. ​

At the moment the sky is gargling thunder. I am here waiting, holding these blank pages with a pause of gratitude and a slight grin. Today I have learned something new. The topic for this essay has just landed in my lap. Slowly read that title again.

I now know that RUD is an acronym for Rapid Unscheduled Disassembly. These three letters may also be an appropriate synonym for a crash, a terminal explosion, a new beginning, a disaster, or a teachable moment. I will confess, the first time I heard this expression resulted in an eye roll a smirk. I have recorded the term in my journal for future research and reflection. I will consider it useful terminology when filing an insurance claim. If my car hits a tree or a tornado rips the roof off my house, there will certainly be a rapid unscheduled disassembly to document.

 A bit of research suggests the term RUD may have first originated on forums discussing the online game Kerbal Space Program, a complex and difficult simulation that tasks players with building spaceships and maneuvering them in orbit. Apparently, the fanbase has been inspired to develop a few extra euphemisms for “my rocket blew up.”

 There’s a bit more backstory for context. Space X is a private spaceflight company associated with a man named Elon Musk. As recently as April 2023, Space X launched Starship, the tallest and most powerful rocket ever built. The flight ended at the four-minute mark with a “rapid unscheduled disassembly.” In other words, it blew up. Ideally, rockets aren’t supposed to explode.

Even with a RUD, the ambitious goal of gathering enough speed to clear the launch pad is being acknowledged as successful. Elon Musk and his employees support the notion that we can discover something from this explode-as-you-learn event. Perhaps, there is some truth to the concept of learning from our mistakes. Knowing what not to do can be helpful when learning the specifics of what to do.

Reflect with me on this notion of RUD. Has a rapid unscheduled disassembly of anything ever impacted you personally? When you were a toddler did you panic when your block tower collapsed? Did it require a fresh start? Can mistakes actually inspire perseverance? How memorable is any unscheduled disassembly? Let’s consider what happens when negative events become a catalyst for good. 

 Suppose a flat tire forces your vehicle into the ditch and during routine repairs you discover pre-existing damage to the axle? Would a RUD be something you were able to learn from? Perchance, in spite of the expense, the event made it possible to avoid an even greater disaster in the future. Investigating the details of a rapid unscheduled disassembly may actually improve future safety features. How many car crashes did it take to inspire seat belts becoming law? Can technology improve as a result of undesirable intentions? 

I’m encouraging some fresh perspective. Determination, wisdom, and perception are excellent motivators in the event of a RUD. A sinking ship may teach us a great deal about how to keep a ship afloat. Unintended consequences are not totally negative.
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What crisis in your life might add caution to your perspective? Is there a RUD in your future? The results could be useful. Failure may precede success. Consider the opportunities.

Today I am cleaning out some old files and rediscovering a few memories from the past. As I sit down to write a new essay, this story keeps floating to the surface. It’s true. It’s funny. And even though my oldest granddaughter just turned 21 this year, her choices continue to offer insight. So, grab your favorite beverage and join me in a smile.

The year is 2006. Lucy is four years old. Her soft blond hair is curly and her laugh is contagious. She absolutely LOVES animals! She seems motivated by curiosity and concern as she conveys generous affection to all creatures she encounters. While experience teaches a certain respect for danger, this budding zoologist is fearless. No cat, dog, slug, frog, fish, turtle, lizard, firefly, or earthworm escapes her caress. Lucy explores all living creatures equally, without preference or prejudice.

One day I drop by for a visit. I am immediately confused when Lucy announces, “This is a bad day. I’m grounded from holding animals!” At first, I imagine some innocent slug may have evolved into an experiment with the chemical reactions of salt. This is not the case.

As I survey the surroundings, I see Hector, the three-legged rescue dog, managing to race across the yard. I question Lucy about the brown ferret she frequently attempts to balance on her head. Then my eyes dart to the aquarium where I absent-mindedly count the fish. A praying mantis is moving around in a glass jar. Two small hermit crabs are resting in their shells. I observe no evidence of torture in the backyard of Lucy’s impromptu nature preserve.

Finally, I asked, “Why are you grounded from holding animals?”

Lucy shyly points to “Monster.” This cat’s ebony ears tremble like velvet leaves as he cautiously peeks out from underneath the car. She calls him Monster only because he is growing so fast. In reality, the gentle black and white kitten is less than a year old. Salvaged from a parking lot, this grateful cat is often the very willing target of cuddles and hugs. His white whiskers twitch excitedly when he’s allowed the privilege of napping on Lucy’s bed.

After focusing for several minutes, I notice Monster’s long white whiskers are missing. The remaining stubble of hair resembles stoic bristles of a tiny hairbrush. The cat makes no attempt to exit the relative safety of the car bumper. Lucy shrugs. “They tickled me too much,” she announces, “so that’s why I cut ’em.” I assume this to be an honest explanation from a precocious four-year-old. The rational solution for a minor irritation is to remove it. So, Lucy is grounded from cuddling animals today.

The animals are resting. And I am laughing, sympathetically.

The logic of Lucy’s behavior is also my logic. How often have I reacted hastily to the stimulus of temporary irritation? My voice and behaviors can sever parts of those I love as surly as Lucy’s scissors. I impulsively insist on removing whatever bothers me without analyzing the overall effect. Metaphorically, I cut the whiskers of those I love and fail to consider the long-term results. Monster’s missing whiskers will impact the cat’s ability to do what cats do. The absence of those whiskers may be painful and even limit the cat’s interpretation of his surroundings. There is always a consequence to any choice.

Perspective matters. Lucy’s story is a lesson. When you’re 4, you don’t have all the facts and your impulsive solutions may be amusing. By the time you are 40, the facts should be a prerequisite to action. Age and experience make me accountable. First, do no harm.
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Finally, consider this advice from Lucy. “Before you use scissors to cut anything, you need first to ask your mommy.” This certainly includes the cat’s whiskers!

In a world of dreams, time would be limitless, perhaps controlled by concepts of good will and bliss. Schedules might only reflect the priorities of the moment. Demands could be flexible. Deadlines would be optional. Yesterday and tomorrow would cease to exist. Eliminate time and the significance of an alarm clock becomes a novelty. It would be impossible to be late or early.

Consider time as the measuring of everything that is not now. In all of the known universe, the magic of a second has the power to avoid an accident, conceive a child, win a race, and still a heartbeat. The routine of a few months can alter the physique, build a house, or create a baby. Years will age us. Decades can impact every aspect of our world. Centuries have moved us beyond candles and into an era that measures light years, RAM, and gigabytes. Time has altered our culture and even modified our vocabulary. Memory doesn’t just refer to human recollection. The term “web” now refers to the entire world, rather than a spider’s home.
Time possesses a certain authority, but it does not heal all wounds. Contrary to the absolutes of evolutionary theory, time is not an impersonal God, but rather an influential force. What the process of time can do is move us forward to stand in a different moment. In this different place, one’s perspective will change. The awareness of time may provide the best catalyst for change, or the greatest limitation.

The author Marc Levy offers some insight about time in his book, “If Only It Were True.” He explains how time can be compared to “money in the bank.” Conditions exist to limit any ability to save this time. It may be helpful to imagine a financial institution that credits your account each morning with $86,400 (86,000 seconds). This bank will carry no balance from day to day. It allows no overdraft or credit. Whatever portion you failed to use during the day is deleted each evening. At midnight, whatever you have failed to invest to good purpose is counted as loss. No balance is carried over, but a new account is opened each day.

The clock is ticking. The structure of time is a controlling force. Today I’ve taken a few liberties with Marc Levy’s wisdom. It is helpful to reflect on perspective.

To Realize The Value Of:

• ONE YEAR, ask a student who failed a grade, or a soldier on foreign soil
• ONE MONTH, ask a mother who gave birth to a premature baby
• ONE WEEK, ask the editor of a newspaper
• ONE HOUR, ask the lovers who are waiting to meet
• ONE MINUTE, ask a person who missed the train or the bus, or ask a waiting transplant patient
• ONE SECOND, ask someone who just avoided an accident​
• ONE MILLISECOND, ask the person who won an Olympic silver medal

Without the dimension of time on this frail earth, occasions evolve into nightmares of chaos. Stability demands a natural order for our universe. Sorting our lives into chronological divisions seems a cultural necessity. The measurable limit of time is a universal force, restraining both evil and good. The human condition is locked in a relationship with time. Invest every moment so as to realize the utmost legacy of happiness, health, and lasting success. Plot your course. “To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven.” (Ecclesiastes 3:1)

And finally, remember this: Yesterday is part of history. Tomorrow remains a mystery. Today is a gift, which may be why “Now” is referred to as the present. Now is all we really have. ​