In this new Heartbeat video, Mike Cope talks about his mentally-handicapped daughter, Megan, who died at the age of ten — but whose brief life left powerful lessons with those who knew her.

Would you rather be an Olympic silver medalist or a bronze medalist? No-brainer, right? We’d rather win gold than silver; and we’d rather win silver than bronze.

But studies have shown that, on average, bronze medalists are much happier about their accomplishments than silver medalists. People who got second spend way too much time regretting how close they were to winning the gold, while those who took third think about how close they came to not medaling at all!

Life can be lived obsessing on regrets and disappointments. Or it can be lived with gratitude.

It’s relatively easy to be grateful when life unfolds just as you had hoped and planned; but the richest expressions of thanksgiving come when you can see the joy, the love, and the goodness that lie beyond disappointments.

- – - -

“Walk joyfully on the earth and respond to that of God in every human being.” George Fox

“Is it too much to say that Stop, Look, and Listen is also the most basic lesson that the Judeo-Christian tradition teaches us? . . . When Jesus comes along saying that the greatest command of all is to love God and to love our neighbor, he . . . is asking us to pay attention. If we are to love God, we must first stop, look, and listen for him in what is happening around us and inside us. If we are to love our neighbors, before doing anything else we must see our neighbors. With our imagination as well as our eyes, that is to say like artists, we must see not just their faces but the life behind and within their faces. Here it is love that is the frame we see them in.

“In a letter to a friend Emily Dickinson wrote that ‘Consider the lilies of the field’ was the only commandment she never broke. She could have done a lot worse. Consider the lilies. It is the sine qua non of art and religion both.”

- Frederick Buechner

Feast on these words from Shel Silverstein:

I went to find the pot of gold
That’s waiting where the rainbow ends.
I searched and searched and searched and searched
And searched and searched, and then–
There it was, deep in the grass,
Under an old and twisty bough.
It’s mine, it’s mine, it’s mine at last. . . .
What do I search for now?

So often we think that there is some great destination that we’re waiting for. We find ourselves “killing time” (a horrible phrase) just waiting for that destination. We forget that it’s the journey itself that is full of life.

You can’t wait for your kids to grow up so you can have a little peace and quiet. There is the joy of the journey.

You can’t wait for retirement so you can play golf. There is the joy of the journey.

You can’t wait for your church to “do things right” so you can be happy. There is the joy of the journey.

You can’t wait for American to get back to the good old days. There is the joy of the journey.

Dorothy, the Tin Man, the Lion, and the Scarecrow are headed to Oz. But the heart, the courage, and the brain they need come from the journey–not from the diminutive wizard behind the curtain.

Bilbo Baggins’ walking song has it right:

The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say.

I have my eyes on an incredible destination. But the journey is filled with joy–even in the midst of pain. I don’t want to miss that joy!

What’s out there on the road for you this day? Don’t put off today waiting for Friday. Don’t blow off this week waiting for next week or this month waiting for next month or this year waiting for next year. Too many people miss life waiting for something better.

Look out today and smile at THAT spouse, THOSE kids, THAT job, THOSE friends, THAT church, THOSE neighbors.

“Laughter is carbonated holiness,” says Anne Lamott. It is effervescent, full of fizz.

A smile, a grin, or full-bodied laughter is such a gift in our super-serious world. It reminds us of friendship, of joy, of playfulness. And, it’s contagious.

Try it out today: see if you can help others break from their blank boredom or their frowning sternness.

Don’t you love it when you see someone who understands what really matters in life? No wonder we’ve been celebrating this clip: a dad who catches his first foul ball ever . . . who sees that ball thrown back by his daughter . . . and whose immediate response is to wrap her up to let her know that she’s much more important than the souvenir.

In his marvelous book Breakfast Epiphanies, David Anderson describes the time when he and his wife began taking dancing lessons. At first, all was peachy. “It is not hard to dance with someone when everything is just fine.”

But then — as inevitably happens in marriage — they became upset with each other about something. “But it is almost impossible to take up a dance position with someone you are fighting with,” he learned.

They had a hard time dancing. But they found out that they could, in fact, practice dancing. It was something they had agreed to do. So they did. Anger seething and all.

“I put on the music and we stand in the middle of the living room floor like two hedgehogs negotiating an embrace. I take her right hand. Stiff. I place my right hand squarely on her back. She squirms as if in actual discomfort. Grand. We both want to say, ‘This is stupid — you can’t dance with someone you don’t even want to be in the same room with!’ But we lurch forward on the downbeat of Hi-Lilli, Hi-Lo, clomping woodenly through the waltz. It is ugly, but we do it. And afterward we nod at each other coolly as if to say, ‘So there.’”

Dancing at such a moment of conflict would have been tough; however, practicing a dance was negotiable. “When you’re in conflict with your partner, you can’t wait for reconciliation to hold one another and move in mirrored grace. You practice your way through the mess. In other words, dancers dance.”

Here’s his big discovery:

“We are sometimes enthralled by the romantic notion that, in intimate relationships, we ought not do or say anything we don’t truly feel. To do so would be dishonest. Wrong again. Usually we have to go through the motions to get to the emotions. . . .

“It is our family custom to hold hands when we say grace. We’ve done it since the children were old enough to join us at the table. Sometimes when we are in conflict, one or another person will decline to join hands. But more often than not we manage to close the circle. This act of intimacy does not mean that all parties are reconciled — the pitched argument continues right after the amen. It is simply a reminder that while we may be in a bitter war, we are fighting with those we dearly love. If action must wait upon feeling, it is impossible to hold someone’s hand — and ‘insincere’ to pray — in such a state of anger. Yet a moment’s thought tells us that intimacy in the midst of conflict is the true test of love. Anyone can hold a hand or say a prayer when they feel like it.

“In relationships, as in all of life, we are perfected by practice. It’s the one thing we can do even if we’re not sure we can do the real thing. If you can’t dance, you can practice dancing. If you can’t love, you can practice loving. If you can’t empathize or set aside anger or hold a hand, you can practice doing it. Sometimes the other person can’t tell the difference, and after a while, neither can you.”