If you know me well enough, then you know 33 is my lucky number. I’ve most likely interrupted a conversation at least once to acknowledge it in passing a billboard or a license plate or a completely random location, usually suggesting that some form of luck would meet my plans that day because of this good omen. It’s been my number ever since high school basketball when I copied it from my older brother who was a sports legend (at least to me) in our small town of Lehi, UT.  So as my 33rd birthday arrived in the fall of 2016, you could say I’d been looking forward to the big “THREE-THREE” for a while, and I was certain it would bring me good fortune.

Subconsciously, I’ve measured years differently than standard January-to-December. My years and goals began in the fall season around September and ended the next fall along with Vivint’s fiscal sales year and the big bonus I anticipated. This time of year was also my favorite because my birthday always landed near Labor Day weekend, and traditionally I celebrated it over a three day weekend full of boating, friends, and perfect temperatures at Lake Powell.

As summer 2016 drew to a close and my lucky year of 33 approached, I received a strong premonition that I needed to make a long visit to my home town, family, and friends for reasons other than the usual, something drew me home other than my usual birthday festivities. This was strange because I was living in California and very content with life, not planning any changes except bigger professional and financial goals, plus I’d recently completed one of the hardest working years of my life, determined to put luck in my own hands. I always wanted to plant roots in California, I love the sun and palm trees, the beach, my daughter’s family had lived in San Diego for three years, and the demographics seemed more conducive to my goals for a career in sales. I didn’t want to leave, but I followed the impression anyways. I visited home at the beginning of October, planning to stay only a while in order to see where this feeling was coming from. I thought for sure it had to do with the luck my special year would bring and assumed the notion was related to professional growth, financial opportunity, or finally finding the love of my life (it was time, I’d been single for eight years now after my divorce and was beginning to grow weary of single life).

Within one week of visiting home I discovered why I needed to be there. Something happened that changed everything, “a moment I never saw coming,” as a friend recently described. My older brother, Andy, (from whom I inherited the number 33) contacted our family with the life-altering news that his four-year old daughter, AJ, had been diagnosed with stage four cancer and that they would begin treatment immediately. They were giving her a 50% chance to live and she would require over a year of intense treatment including chemo, immuno, and several surgeries along with many other things that all sounded scary to me. I couldn’t imagine how it all sounded to my brother… and especially how it sounded to her.

I never saw that coming… How could this be happening to my niece? I couldn’t believe it. I was heartbroken, but the most urgent thing on my mind was, “If I feel sick and soul-shattered hearing this news, how does my brother feel? How does his wife feel.” I couldn’t imagine the devastation.

My family suggested that I stay home and move in with my parents in order to help Andy with his lawn treatment and pest control business, which he ran from the office behind their house. I was the only member of the family who could viably drop everything, leave my job, and uproot my life to relocate nearby. I didn’t have a wife and kids waiting on me, or my career in California, in fact my daughter had recently moved back to Utah with her family, yet another reason that I needed to be home.

I wish I could say that I jumped heroically at the opportunity to serve without hesitation, but I didn’t. Switching jobs to help my brother undoubtedly meant a dramatic decrease in income since I had no experience, also considering the large amount of bills he was about to acquire I couldn’t possibly expect him to pay me what I was earning at Vivint. Either way, those issues were minuscule in comparison to the thought of moving in with my parents at the age of 33, not to mention the local stigma that would follow a 33 year-old male living at home. Mostly, I felt like I had something good going in the Golden State, like I was on track for plans I’d wanted to fulfill for a long time, and a purpose and a calling to be there.

Only a couple days passed before I felt ashamed for thinking that way. I thought of my brother and what he must be going through and I was sorry for the selfish thoughts I’d indulged. Keep in mind, I believe and promote the attitude of “believe in yourself”, and “follow your dreams”, and don’t let anything stop you from reaching your goals, and all that qi life energy mojo stuff, but this was a cause so much bigger than myself and my plans and goals, no matter how important those other plans were to me. I swallowed my ego, put my life on pause, and moved back home to help.

I helped my brother with the business for almost the whole year. I watched as my brother and his wife, Jessica, adapted to the changes that came into their lives unexpectedly, much greater changes than mine. It humbled me to be close to them, and it taught me perspective and priority in the most basic form along with the old saying, “family first”. The most humbling thing to observe was the way my brother and his wife put all previous plans aside and adapted to meet the relentless demands that seemed to pour in each day, overflowing their lives from “already too busy,” to, “impossibly busy.” They sacrificed money, recreation, personal goals and almost never had time alone anymore. They became in-home nurses and gave up personal comforts they had grown accustomed to, such as sufficient sleep or traditional vacations. Things perhaps every human thinks they couldn’t live without were stripped away without rebuttal, all in order to learn nursing skills, medical terminology, and to meet the never ending list of demands heaped upon them. Comfort was almost completely done away with as a luxury, or a memory from some former life. It’s as if they evolved to meet the requirements of their circumstances. What other choice did they have if they wanted their daughter to live?

Around February, about 5 months into AJ’s therapy, (and 5 months into my lucky 33rd year) it seemed like my brother and his wife had a firm grasp on the new schedule along with the demands thereof. AJ seemed to be taking the treatments like a champ, though they did take a brutal toll on her tiny body. I felt that it would be okay for me to pickup my former plans where I had left off and reboot my my career along with other important life plans. I moved back to California, and was there about 3 weeks before the gut-feeling came back that I needed to be home. I wasn’t sure why, again, my brother and family seemed to have everything under control and even told me they’d be alright without me. Coincidentally, (or “un-coincidentally” as I believe) there was a convention for my job back home at the same time, so I had several reasons to follow my gut.

Within a week, catastrophe struck my brother’s business. A supplier misunderstood an order and sent the wrong chemical, which got mixed into the fertilizer tanks. Andy was at the hospital with AJ and was unable to supervise the chemical placement in person. As a result, approximately 65 lawns were ruined, pouring salt on my brother’s wounds. As if his daughter’s situation wasn’t already too much to bear, this is the type of debacle that would put most companies out of business. I knew immediately why I felt guided home. I changed my plans for good this time and replanted my roots back home.

September arrived. My lucky year came and went. AJ became the living epitome of the hashtag #strongisthenewpretty and muscled through her last round of chemo. Little did I know, she still had a long road until recovery, so I remained innocently optimistic on her behalf. Andy spent every penny he had repairing the damaged lawns, and several months later with hundreds of hours of extra labor, the business and the majority of the lawns seemed to be recovering somewhat.

Secretly, I began to feel despair at the conclusion of my 33rd year.  If anything, as I looked back I felt like I hadn’t accomplished much personally. I knew this was selfish which only made me feel worse. In many ways I took a step backwards, a sharp contrast to my feelings a year before, in 2016, when I felt I had accomplished so much professionally, physically, and spiritually. I’m an optimistic fella, anyone who knows me, knows that I’m always looking for the silver lining in things, but I admit that I was discouraged.

I let myself sulk it in (yes, “sulk”, as opposed to soak) for a few weeks of hidden self-pity. Nobody really knew because i’m good at hiding it (or so we tell ourselves). Some might relate, you get used to a certain kind of pain and loathing, so you sulk in it for a while, as if it subconsciously brings a masochist-like pleasure. You pat yourself on the back for having remained secretly depressed for so long while you’re surrounded with people, even friends and family, but still feel completely alone. But in time even sorrow gets mundane, so I came to a crossroad: “Do I really want to continue to milk this secretive feeling of despair for everything it’s worth by doing nothing about it? Or can I possibly find some motivation in life again…” I knew the latter would make me happier, but let’s be honest, the path of despair is much easier if you just keep riding it. Besides, what “motivation” can possibly be derived after a failed year, or a failed relationship, failed careers, failed goals, failed commitments… What good can possibly come from it?

After specific prayer, meditation, and attention deficit disorder mixed with boredom, I looked through my Instagram posts from the year as if that was actually going to help, though I knew it usually left me depressed after wasting more time than I’d planned scanning the ‘Gram (Instagram) and observing everyone else’s seemingly perfect lives …winky face implied.

I noticed something I didn’t expect to find. I discovered a trend throughout my own posts. A large portion contained pictures and videos of a sweet little bald headed girl. My niece.

I always had a special bond with her as a funcle (and father) must, but thinking over the year and scrolling through those pictures hit me hard. I thought of my brother’s strength to fight through the pains he must have endured all year far greater than any pain I had ever suffered. I remembered how he told me many times that he wished it could’ve been him with the cancer instead of his daughter because of the pain it caused him to watch his child suffer so slowly. I thought of all the times he told me “thank you”, which was more often that year than ever before. He frequently mentioned how much he appreciated my help not just through the added demands with AJ’s treatment, but also with his business all year, considering the unforeseen events that arose. That meant a lot more to me coming from my older brother, someone I beheld as a role model my entire life. I began to acknowledge what a privilege that year had been and the perspective I lived all year of “family first”. It became priceless to me, even at the cost of my own personal goals and plans.

Right then I had an epiphany. What if there was a reason I needed to be single at that time in my life. Marriage or family needs would have made it nearly impossible to uproot everyone and move closer to home in order to help my brother. While leaving my former employment would have been twice as unlikely. This thought made me feel better about why I was 33 and still single, and I didn’t feel bad anymore about having taken a decrease in pay to switch jobs in order to help my brother. I reorganized my thoughts and I felt happy again, and motivated. I remembered reading about this practice of reorganizing ones’ thoughts in the book “Man’s Search for Meaning”, by Victor Frankl. He termed it “logotherapy”, the practice of reorganizing ones’ thoughts to find meaning in life. It’s brilliant. As these thoughts came to me, I chose to change my perspective.

This is where perspective gains intangible power. Whether to discourage or to refine an individual, there is an equation in perspective, as follows: choice gives meaning to perspective, perspective gives meaning purpose, and purpose gives meaning to life. Might I add, purpose breeds motivation. It’s amazing what we can accomplish (and endure) with the right sense of purpose in life, which may be renewed and re-evaluated at any time through the choice of perspective. Renewing purpose, in turn, renews motivation.

In an instant, my year didn’t seem so bad, in fact it seemed quite the opposite, and reorganizing my perspective was the answer.  It seemed like I had gained an intangible-invaluable asset in the form of good perspective and superior priorities. I decided to take a friend up on his offer for payment to modernize his 50 yr. old sprinkler valves, which turned into a neighbor wanting sod, and a friend wanting his entire yard installed… which led to 3 fence installations and 2 more full landscape installations that fall. Suddenly I realized my side gig was turning into a full-time business that I loved and was passionate about, and had been searching for as long as I could remember.

It all started with moments I never saw coming, and a change of plans I didn’t invite.  Family came first, even over dating, marriage, or my own professional plans in 2017, and though I will always strive to fulfill personal goals and professional achievements, this perspective is more valuable than anything money could buy.  The lucky 33rd year did not disappoint after all. My purpose was renewed by the perspective gained from a seemingly failed year, which turned out to be the best year of my life.

_______ *UPDATE*________

(4/4/18)

After a chat with my dad today I remembered where my brother and I had really inherited the luck of the #33 from, and the good looks 😉

My Dad! Super throwback awesome pictures from when he sported the big three-three…