Dear Family: (Thank you Lord for the gifts you have entrusted in me. I pray those who hear this message receive it as you intended and be blessed in your favor. AMEN.)

This week is a little different.

This week I won't bore you with the overuse of my metaphors and my amateur approach to motivating you into becoming the person I always believed you could be.

This week is more of a confessional. A top-tier confession piece, written from a place of accountability.

So here I go:

I confess: I want the kind of change that's hard to come by. I want to not even be recognizable to myself. Let alone to my family and friends. And not just physically. Mentally, Emotionally, &  Spiritually. The type of change you hear in those late-night YouTube doom-scrolling sessions, from a guy all jacked up on coffee and steroids.

Yeah I want that!!!
(Not the steroids. Just the change.)

I identified the change I wanted years ago. I identified the man I want to be.

I don't have idols, role models, or people I look up to. No. I look up to myself (Sue me for being honest).

Arrogant as that sounds, let me explain.

I once heard Matthew McConaughey say he was told never to want to be like anyone else, the world has enough of that person. Instead, you decide the exact man you want to be 10 years from now, down to the last detail. And you work your butt off to become him.

So I look up to Earl in 10 years. The principles he holds. His generosity. His health. The relationships he forges.

That means today, I try to not do things I  currently feel like doing, I try my best to do things that Earl would do regardless if I understand it now.

But it's hard.

Here's the thing nobody tells you: from the shore, the destination looks simple.

You can see where you are. You can see where you're going. You can even see the mountain in the middle.  And falsely you believe It’s a straight shot.

What you can't see from the shore? Is that behind those mountains, are more mountains, and storms. You cant see The fog. The twists and turns. The way the waves will attempt to humble  every mile.

You can't see any of that until you're already in the water. Until you’ve been naive enough to go for it.

So you set sail. Pumped. Excited. Sure of yourself.

But in just a short distance, you lose your mind. Because the excitement wears off, reality sets in and you can now see the journey is a lot longer, dangerous, and harder than it looked from the dock. (This is why you give grace to the spectators in your life judging your every move from the sidelines. IF only they knew, if only they knew).

Honestly? I'm embarrassed. Because most of the time, instead of staying and committing, it feels like I jumped off the boat and swam back to shore. Exasperated full of frustration because my perception and reality didn't seem to agree.

After sitting long enough, my environment reminds me why I started the journey in the first place. I work up the nerve, and I start the process all over again.

And here's the part that took me too long to learn.

I kept trying different boats. Different routes. Different paths to the same destination. Looking for the easier way. The shortcut. The way that wouldn't cost me as much.

But every shortcut I took? Cost me more.

More time. More peace. More money. More of who I was becoming.

Because shortcuts often time take much longer than the path I’m avoiding. I was today years old when I realized the hard way is the shortcut.

So recently? I decided to stick it out.

I decided to ride these waves until they take me where I'm going.

I'm 2 miles in. I've lost my mind. I want to jump ship.

But I didn't.

I haven't.

And I won't.

Not because I'm better. Honestly, I'm not. But I'm learning to stop swimming back to shore. I'm learning to let the storm do its work. To trust that the longer path is the only one that has my name on it.

So here's the breadcrumb.

What shortcut have you been trying to take that keeps sending you back to shore?

What boat have you abandoned at mile 2 because you didn't like what was on the other side of the mountain?

The destination is real. God put it in you for a reason.

But you can't see the favor until you stay in the boat long enough for the fog to clear.

I love you.

TTYL.

— Earl