I remain an ardent fan of Super Great Kids’ Stories. Bringing the timeless art of storytelling to the podcasting genre, the weekly episodes are often memorable. A family favorite—owing most likely to the simple fact of bathroom humor—is a story told by Amy Douglas. Titled, “May You Carry On All Day,” the story contrasts the experience of a poor traveler in the modest home of a seamstress and in the estate of a wealthy woman.
The mysterious traveler leaves both women—the kind and hospitable seamstress of modest means and the greedy rich woman—with the same reward: “Whatever you do, may you carry on all day…” Unsuspecting, the seamstress is given the gift of a limitless roll of cloth with which she can endlessly sew projects that go to support her family. The wealthy woman, self-seeking and self-interested, gets wind of this gift and invites the traveler in with a motive. He gives her what she wants, but the results are quite different.
With mild and inoffensive potty humor, the story illustrates memorably how the wealthy woman’s habitual fixation on herself leads her to pragmatically visit the water closet before sitting down to her gilded, fancy fabric she expects to multiply for her personal gain. What she chose to do first is what she ended up doing for the rest of the day.
There is some truth to that inertia of thought and action in our daily living. If you have spent any time with someone who orbits in the sphere of Opus Dei, a personal prelature of the Catholic Church founded by St. Josemaria Escriva, you may have heard of the Heroic Minute. In his book about the spiritual life, “The Way,” Escriva describes the Heroic Minute as “the time fixed for getting up. Without hesitation: a supernatural reflection and… up! The heroic minute: here you have a mortification that strengthens your will and does no harm to your body.”
Instead of groggily stumbling into the day or hitting snooze on the alarm, you can train yourself to turn your first thoughts to your Creator and spring into the day in a posture of triumph. It’s not only a potentially fruitful spiritual practice. Admiral William H. McRaven has a secular equivalent gleaned from his time in the Navy SEAL training: making your bed each morning. In his 2014 University of Texas Commencement speech, McRaven said:
If you make your bed every morning you will have accomplished the first task of the day. It will give you a small sense of pride, and it will encourage you to do another task and another and another. By the end of the day, that one task completed will have turned into many tasks completed. Making your bed will also reinforce the fact that little things in life matter. If you can’t do the little things right, you will never do the big things right.
And, if by chance you have a miserable day, you will come home to a bed that is made — that you made — and a made bed gives you encouragement that tomorrow will be better.
The antithesis of the Heroic Minute or the Navy SEAL’s crisply made bed is beginning the day in a posture of passivity: scrolling on the phone and avoiding one’s own interior life. Is it possible to recover from a poor start to the day? Assuredly. But why add a difficult challenge where it need not be?
Many mothers and busy professionals have observed that if they want to exercise, it must be one of the first things they do in the morning or it will not happen. The same can be said for focused reading or prayer. What is the one thing you want to turn your new day’s energy toward? Whatever you do, may you carry on all day.
