Have you ever caught yourself saying, “I wish I could do that”?
As a child watching Wide World of Sports, I’d sit transfixed, thinking to myself: I wish I could ski jump, dive off a cliff, or run a four-minute mile like Jim Ryun. I never did any of those things, nor many of the other feats I watched from the safety of my living room. Over the years, the “wishes” shifted but remained distant—I wondered what it would be like to labor alongside Mother Teresa, scale the heights of Mt. Everest, or drift through the silence of space as an astronaut. I never made it to those places either.
Now that I’ve reached an age I once thought was reserved only for “old people,” I find I still have a few “wish I could do thats.” However, they have become more modest in scope, trading adrenaline for impact.
The Lenten season is traditionally a time for study, prayer, and sacrifice. Yet, it is also a forty-day window to branch out and do something for a neighbor that you once deemed impossible or simply “not for you.” We often mistake “greatness” for physical prowess, but the true heavy lifting happens elsewhere. A soup kitchen needs an extra pair of hands; Meals on Wheels needs a driver; a children’s hospital needs a voice to bring a storybook to life. You see, “wishing you could do something” doesn’t have to mean slam-dunking a basketball or driving a race car. It can mean extending a hand to a complete stranger and realizing you were capable of that connection all along.
I often think a church or service club could facilitate a “Dream Bank”—a clearinghouse for these small, significant aspirations. It would be a place where one could “check in” and serve the community with no long-term obligation or daunting commitment beyond a single day.
By investing in such a bank, we bridge the gap between our intentions and our actions. We move from being spectators of other people’s lives to being participants in our own community’s healing. Perhaps the greatest “wish” we can fulfill isn’t found on a mountaintop or a moon landing, but in the quiet, transformative realization that we have exactly what someone else needs. This Lent, don’t just wish you could make a difference; check out a dream, spend an hour, and discover that the most daring thing you can do is simply show up for someone else.
Amen!
Thank you Pat!