Getting My MBA

My parent’s didn’t want us to call ourselves lucky when something good happened. They preferred that we give thanks to a loving God or benevolent Fortune. They were wise and I understand their point.

Today, though, I beg to differ. I fully believe in a loving God, but I have trouble understanding why He would bless me and not others (or vice-versa). Deep down I know that He’s got bigger plans and He’s looking out for our best, not just what we’d like. The best is sometimes (often?) far beyond our current understanding and can only be comprehended looking backwards. Some things we won’t get until we see Him face to face. The danger is that giving God the glory, which He deserves, seems almost like taking it for granted. Of course He’s good. Of course He loves me. So it’s obvious that good stuff is going to happen.

As far as benevolent Fortune, that seems too impersonal — an idealized figure in a toga on a Roman frieze. A handsome, kindly face and eyes without pupils. It might notice you, it might not. It might just be some haze of goodness in the general vicinity, blindly bestowed on whomever wanders by.

Lady Luck, though, makes sense. A beguiling, teasing, cruel taskmaster that nevertheless bewitches. She’s arbitrary and capricious, but she’ll look you in the eye. Most of the time, she’s doing it to see what you do when she isn’t smiling, but she is taking the time to look at you. You can never get complacent; a loving God always loves you, but Lady Luck smiles only now and then. She can be wooed but never won.

So God, please understand. You really deserve the credit, but I’m saying I’m lucky to try to preserve the wonder.

I have an amazing family. I have a wife who loves me (and smiles on me slightly more often than Lady Luck does) and some great kids. Money is often tight, but we have a nice house and I never have to skip a meal because we don’t have food. I get to share my house and life with six other wonderful people who really are fun to be around. It’s not fun to try to get them to clean their rooms, but that’s normal. I enjoy playing catch, running sprints, going to the beach, or just talking to any of them.

I am blessed, fortunate, and lucky. I hope my MBA will enable me to do a better job providing for them.

So, this is it. I am embarking on a great journey: my quest to obtain a piece of paper that I hope will bring lots of other pieces of paper my way!

Just to clarify, the first piece of paper is my diploma bearing the hallowed words, “Master of Business Administration”. You know, a pointy-hair, a suit, a heartless jerk.

The rest of the papers are, of course, small unmarked bills. American currency. US Dollars. Cash. Money. Moolah.

Because, let’s be real here. I have ideals and goals and dreams. Some of my dreams involve helping others and doing things that benefit lots of people. But I haven’t seen a dream yet that doesn’t have a price tag. Not all of the price tags are in dollars, mind you, but they all have a cost.

One of my dreams that has come true is to have a family. I have a wonderful and long-suffering wife and some terrific kids. But, as anyone who has kids knows, there is a price. I’m not just talking about the cubic dollars required to provide bushels of food and keep them clothed. I’m talking about the effort and sacrifice it takes to raise a good kid. This isn’t bragging. I’m not the greatest father in the world. I have invested in my kids, though, and they’re terrific people.

Besides, I would like to keep paying my mortgage. It’s hard to clean up for an interview for CEO of Enron when you’re sleeping on the street. Okay, maybe it works for Enron, but not for Exxon.