And I wasn’t in my head. It was great!
Here’s the scene: We were at a pool party at the gym. My wife, who’s a trainer, had brought us along for an event for employees and their families. The weather was perfect, the food was great, and there was this fun, lighthearted energy in the air. They had a cakewalk, water balloons, cornhole, and even a limbo contest.
My kids were pumped to compete against the lifeguards—these tall, athletic, confident guys who clearly had great camaraderie. A crowd gathered to watch. People clapped when a 6’7” guy somehow managed to bend his way under the bar, and they cheered when my daughter simply walked upright under the same bar. Twin lifeguard brothers were especially competitive, and everyone was cheering and smiling.
In the past, a scene like this would’ve been a minefield for me. But last weekend? It brought me joy.
Later, as my wife and I talked about it, I reflected on how I’ve shown up in moments like this at different points in my life. And wow, has that changed.
40 years ago: As a boy, I would’ve looked at those lifeguards like they were gods—so different from me, so unattainable. I was too small, too scared, too separate. I didn’t belong to the “man club,” and I believed I never would. I felt lonely and sad.
30 years ago: I would’ve felt this electric charge in my body just looking at them, and it would’ve terrified me. I would’ve hidden inside myself, convinced I was uniquely flawed, that there was something wrong with me I had to keep secret. I would’ve believed there was this massive gap between their worth and mine.
25 years ago: I would’ve sought out moments like this, but not for the right reasons. I would’ve let lust take over, staring at them, obsessing over them, and losing myself in my thoughts. I would’ve missed the laughter, the camaraderie, the joy of the moment.
20 years ago: I would’ve obsessed over what I needed to do to look like them. If I could just have their muscles, their confidence, their presence, then maybe I’d feel like I was enough. I’d believe I’d be more likable, more worthy, more capable. But deep down, I’d still feel like I was chasing something I couldn’t catch.
15 years ago: I started to see things differently. I began to appreciate the beauty in how God created us, to see the strength and connection in moments like this. I started to believe that I wasn’t so different from them—that I could belong, too. I wasn’t as closed off or stuck in my head.
Now, at 47, I can welcome a moment like this into my life without holding onto it or letting it define me. I can enjoy the laughter, the anticipation, the beauty of the scene without obsessing over it. I can stand next to my wife, smile at her as our daughter takes the prize, and feel gratitude for the life God has built.
I didn’t need to compare myself to the lifeguards. I didn’t need to stare at their muscles or wonder if I measured up. I could just be there—fully present, fully alive, fully grateful.
What’s one moment this week where you can choose to be fully present, without judgment or comparison? What’s one moment where you can just be?
You’ve got this. And God’s got you.
Jason