I’ve spent most of my life around sports, but ones like football, baseball, and basketball.
Over the past few years, I’ve become a soccer fan. I’m still a beginner, but I’m trying to understand it better.
This summer I’ve embraced the World Cup.
I’ve been watching matches, learning formations, and often wondering why the referee just blew the whistle.
It’s new to me, much like tennis or pickleball once were, and when I’m new to something, I pay attention differently.
I notice details and ask questions. And I’ve learned through those questions that I sometimes see things that longtime participants often overlook. (It’s one of the reasons I’ve enjoyed writing books with people. The right questions often help them see themselves—and their experiences—in ways they hadn’t before.)
That also seems true of the visitors who have come to watch the World Cup in person.
Many of them are experiencing America for the first time.
A German embraces Waffle House.
A Frenchman marvels at the size of the country and our gas stations.
The German loves the friendliness of strangers.
Freddy, that same German, on the beauty of our small towns.
A Swede discovers ranch dressing.
The things that maybe we residents barely notice anymore.
What would a visitor to my life notice?
Would they marvel at my family? My health? The friendships I’ve built over the years? The opportunities I’ve been given? The freedom to do work I genuinely enjoy?
Those are things I don’t always stop to appreciate—not because they’re unimportant, but because they’re familiar.
It’s easy to stop seeing those familiar things, which we do in so many areas of life.
We stop noticing the spouse who quietly supports us.
The friend who always answers the phone.
The coworker who consistently does excellent work.
The freedoms we enjoy.
The opportunities we’ve been given.
The body that still allows us to walk, work, play, and serve.
The home we once dreamed of owning.
The family members whose presence we simply assume.
Familiarity has a way of turning blessings into background scenery.
What once felt extraordinary becomes ordinary.
What once inspired gratitude becomes expected.
Years ago, when I worked in the NFL, every single game I would stand on the sideline before the game and remind myself to appreciate the moment. The stadium. The crowd. The privilege of being part of something I had dreamed about as a kid.
I didn’t want the experience to become familiar, but other things do.
I think that happens to all of us.
We spend so much time looking ahead to the next goal, the next accomplishment, the next opportunity, that we forget to appreciate the things already surrounding us.
Maybe that’s one of the hidden benefits of becoming a beginner again, or acting as if you are a visitor.
Seeing the world through fresh eyes reminds us that many of the things we value most have been right in front of us all along.
Take a moment to look around. You may discover that some of life’s greatest gifts aren’t the things you’re still pursuing.
They’re the things you’ve stopped seeing.
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