Isn’t There More to Life Than This?


Coffee, decades of pot-lucks, and just a hint of mildew permeate the cold white-washed concrete walls. A slow moving line plops spoonfuls of  hot food from an endless line of casseroles. Arthritic hands wrap around steaming cups of decaf and elbows come to rest on heavy folding tables covered in cheap plastic table-cloths.

Ah, the “coffee-and” gathering of the Catholic church lyceum.

I sit on a brown metal folding chair making small-talk about chicken salad and cupcake frosting. After ten minutes I start to squirm. I hate small talk. It’s forced and uncomfortable to me. I look out the window at a blue skied day that I could be enjoying, but no, social conventions force me to the church basement.

“Isn’t there more to life than this?” 

How many times have I asked myself this question? How many times have I felt trapped in a situation I didn’t want to be in? How many times has boredom and conventional existence made me feel like I was wasting my life? I should be exploring, adventuring, traveling, tasting life.

We head outside. It’s Palm Sunday and a local farm has brought two donkeys in honor of Christ’s arrival to Jerusalem.

I check my watch wondering how long this will take. My youngest is whiney and clingy, but my oldest wants to ride.

I watch him mount Jesse James, the smaller of the two donkeys, as he goes on a slow walk around the side yard of the church.

When he’s out of earshot he throws an arm into the air and waves it around in a circle like a cowboy about to lasso a stampeding bull.

I snap a picture of him and suddenly I’m struck at how beautiful a day it is. It’s Spring at its best. The sky is blue with just a few puffy white clouds. It’s warm enough for short-sleeves but the steady wind keeps it from getting uncomfortable. The grass has turned from winter-brown to a verdant green, and the smell of emerging life hangs in the wind.

I smile and wave at my son, once again amazed at the lessons he teaches me. Mike has the ability to make a two minute donkey-ride into an adventure. He shares his gifts of enthusiasm and imagination without shame or apology.

It’s infectious.

How much has my yearning for “something better” blinded me to the incredible beauty that surrounds me? When have I truly shared my gifts for the benefit of others? When was the last time I sought to inspire instead of waiting for inspiration? 

“Isn’t there more to life than this?”

God, forgive me for asking that question.


-Mike Sposito

Owner Spowerks LLC


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