Webworms…

A few weeks ago we had our yard completely re-landscaped. Part of the job was replacing the sod in the entire backyard and down the side yard. When the crew finished, I stood in the backyard and just looked at it. Thick. Green. Perfect. I had a yard again!

Fast forward two weeks.

My wife tells me, “The grass isn’t looking too good on the side of the yard.”

So I walk over to the side of the yard and take a look. Sure enough, she’s right. It’s looking like it’s dying.

Now, I’ve been down this road before, so I thought I knew exactly what was going on. The irrigation must not be getting it enough water. I spent a Sunday afternoon checking the heads, checking the coverage, making sure every inch of that new grass was getting what it needed. I adjusted the timer and gave it more time. Problem solved.

Two weeks go by. I look at the side yard again.

The brown spots weren’t just still there. They had spread. What started as a couple of patches was now about two-thirds of my backyard.

I immediately called Steve from our landscaping company. He pulled up, got out of his truck, took about ten steps toward the sod, stopped, and said, “Oh my gosh. You’ve got sod webworms.”

I had no idea what a sod webworm was.

But sure enough, when you get down low and really look, you can see where the edges of the blades of grass have been chewed. What Steve told me was that webworms hide down in the thatch during the day. They come out at night, and they eat.

And you never see them.

Think about that for a minute. I had been out there with my sprinkler heads and my timer, fixing the wrong problem. Everything I could see told me the grass needed water, so I gave it more water. Meanwhile, every single night, something I couldn’t see was quietly eating away at it.

Ten steps. That’s all it took for someone who knew what to look for.

I went out, bought grub killer, and put it down on the yard immediately. Steve told me he doubts the grass will come back. But I’m hopeful.

Still, I couldn’t stop thinking about those webworms. Not the ones in my yard….

The ones in my life.

I just have to wonder. What are those things that are slowly eating away at the roots of my life? The things that are quietly stealing the joy out of my life?

And what am I doing about it? Am I ignoring it? Am I hoping it just goes away?

There are lots of things working below the surface of our lives. Nobody sees them. Most days we don’t even see them ourselves. But they have dramatic impacts.

The world today is built around what shows on the surface. Keep it green on top and nobody asks questions. And yet the webworms are still down there, and they still need to be dealt with.

The fact is, doing nothing is a choice too, and so is adjusting the timer and hoping for the best.

So this week, I’m asking myself a simple question, and I’ll ask you too.

What’s eating at you while you sleep? And what are you going to do about it?

Green on top doesn’t always mean everything’s healthy underneath.

Batteries Included People…

Two Duracell batteries with a black backgraound

There used to be a day when you’d buy something from the store… rip it open with that kid-on-Christmas-morning excitement… and then hit the wall. Batteries not included.

What a letdown. We’ve all been there.

I recently heard an author named Jim Kwik use the phrase “batteries included people”… and the second I heard it, I knew exactly who he was talking about.

Batteries included people supply their own energy. They’re self-assured. Grounded. You don’t have to manage their mood or walk on eggshells around them, wondering what version of them you’re going to get today. They just show up… the same way they showed up yesterday… self-sufficient, self-powered, ready to do whatever needs doing. Bright. Steady. Dependable.

I need people like that in my life. I want people like that in my life.

But then there’s the other kind… the “batteries not included” people. These folks run on your power. Your energy. Your attention. Your time. And most of us give it willingly… at first. We share what we’ve got because that’s what you do for people you care about. But it comes with a cost. Slowly, quietly, it wears you down.

A simple, ordinary day leaves you drained. You find yourself crawling into bed early, not because you’re tired from doing much, but because you’re tired from giving so much… hoping a full night’s sleep will recharge you before you have to get up and pour yourself out all over again.

Batteries not included people are energy vampires. They don’t mean to be… most of them are completely unaware, because they’ve never had to run on their own power long enough to notice. And a lot of them use whatever energy they do have on things that don’t move them forward… rehashing old wounds, replaying old injustices, nursing old pain. It’s easier to stay the victim than to become the answer. There’s always an excuse. Never any ownership.

Now look… I know I just painted two extremes on opposite ends of a continuum. Most of us live somewhere in the middle, and if I’m honest, I’ve probably been a batteries-not-included person to somebody on a rough day. We all have.

But here’s what I keep coming back to… life is short. And batteries included people know it. They don’t waste it. Not their time, not their energy, not anyone else’s.

So let me ask you this… if getting through today felt like a giant task, or if just making it to bedtime felt like a small victory… maybe it’s time to unplug for a bit. Recharge. Refill.

Because “sharing is caring” doesn’t apply to energy.

Some things you’re just not meant to give away for free.

The Middle Grounds…

Conakry, Guinea

I just celebrated my 67th birthday, and I’m still not sure how I feel about that. Sixty‑five had some punch to it. Even 66 felt like a solid number. But 67… it’s like an invisible number. The middle grounds.

It’s not a place you start from, and it’s not a place you aim for. It feels more like being somewhere out in the middle of the ocean — not sinking, not drifting off course, just out there. A stretch of water you move through because that’s where the current takes you.

And the thing about the middle grounds is that it’s easy to get lost. You don’t have the usual landmarks to guide you. No big milestones, no clear markers, nothing that tells you “you’re here” or “you’re heading there.” You have to rely on your bearings. Where are you going? What direction still feels true? Hold that bearing and keep plugging away… and of course, keep the water out of your boat.

That’s how I feel right now. Like I just need to grind it out. Nothing is pulling me toward something new, and nothing is pushing me away from where I am. It’s the steady, everyday rhythm of getting up and doing what needs to be done.

And it’s not that I’m ungrateful. I’m thankful for my life, for what I have, for what I’m doing. It’s not about that. It’s just this feeling of needing to keep going — even when there’s no big spark, no big shift, no big moment pointing me in a direction.

The middle grounds may not come with fireworks or milestones, but they have their own kind of clarity. You learn what matters, what doesn’t, and what keeps you upright. So I’ll keep my bearings, keep the water out of the boat, and keep going.

Maybe that’s enough for now…