“Here is the test
to find whether your
mission on Earth
is finished:
if you’re alive,
it isn’t.” 
Richard Bach

“Why am I here?” Four simple words. One fundamental question.

When I was a child, the question was posed as a cute invitation to dream about my future. “What do you want to be when you grow up?” There were no right or wrong answers to this question.

During my adolescence, the question took on a bit more meaning, yet it was still a harmless, perhaps somewhat challenging query inviting me to identify a potential direction and purpose for my life. 

In my young adult years, the question took on a bit more urgency. I was old enough to give serious consideration to what I wanted to do with my life, as well as to what, if anything, I was being called to do. It was more important at this point that decisions I made regarding my education, my values, and my lifestyle be consistent with my life goals. No longer was I being asked about my dreams for the future. Those dreams, by this point, were expected to be reflected in a tangible plan of action with an identifiable sense of direction.

When I got married, my answer to the “Why am I here?” question was still not fully formed. At this point, it was essential that I consider the needs, desires, and well-being of others — specifically my wife and our children. No longer did I have the luxury of thinking only of myself. I was part of a team now.

Throughout my professional career, I often contemplated the question “Why am I here?” I spent 31 years of my life employed at St. Lawrence parish and high school in Santa Clara, California. I felt called to be there. Literally. In the spring of 1984, I received an unsolicited phone call from an acquaintance who worked at the parish elementary school. He told me of a position the pastor was looking to fill which required a diversity of skills, all of which I possessed. I initially declined the offer, but when urged to do so, I agreed to attend an interview with the pastor. Much to my surprise, I walked out of that meeting having accepted the job. It proved to be providential, as this is where I met my wife.

In 1994, after ten years of working primarily for the parish, with limited responsibilities in the high school, I again received an unexpected phone call. This time, the principal of the high school invited me to accept a full-time position in the school. The timing of his invitation was opportune, as leadership at the parish level had changed and the work environment had become increasingly distressing. 

During my first six years working in the high school, I had a strong sense of why I was there. The school was providing a unique learning environment for some of the most vulnerable Catholic students in the Santa Clara Valley. I had a sense of purpose. I experienced a strong sense of community among the faculty, students, and parents. I knew I was making a positive difference in the school and in the lives of my students. Unfortunately, in the spring of 2001, the pastor of the parish overstepped his bounds and needlessly replaced the principal, the man who, more than anyone else, was responsible for the emerging success of the school.

I continued to work in the high school for fifteen more years, during which time I witnessed a slow, but steady deterioration of the treasured institution it had become. During those years, there was a consistent decline in enrollment, a loss of the sense of the identity and mission of the school, and a sharp downturn in morale among faculty, students, and parents. By 2015, I’d had enough. At that point in my career, I was unable to come up with an answer to the “Why am I here?” question. Out of concern for my own physical and mental well-being, I submitted my resignation effective June 2015.   

In the nine years since my retirement, I regained a sense of purpose in life. I learned to embrace the reality that gratitude makes a difference. For this reason, I devoted much of my time during this period to publishing six books and speaking on the topic of gratefulness.

I turned 70 in June. With both my teaching and writing careers behind me, I am again confronted with the “Why am I here?” question. I reflect on this question every day. My three sons are self-sufficient adults. They, along with my wife and five grandchildren, continue to enrich my life. Still, I can’t help but ponder the reason for my existence at this point. With inspiration from a few books I’ve read and, recently, from a number of podcasts I’ve listened to, I am able to answer the question yet again. I am here today to be kind. 

Opportunities to be kind to others present themselves every day — multiple times each day. It may be just a smile, an acknowledgment that the other exists, or it might involve a lengthy conversation with someone who just needs someone to listen attentively to them. It may be helping someone carry their bags of groceries or preparing a cup of hot coffee for a construction worker doing a small job in my home. It may be making time to have breakfast or lunch with someone who is lonely or feels isolated in the world today, or it might involve expressing my condolences to a friend who has recently lost a parent or spouse.

Every day there are countless opportunities to simply be kind to others. In 2024, this is my job. This is my calling. This is my response to that fundamental question: “Why am I here?”