Life is fun—it’s a blast!—full of joy and balloons, wonder and amazement, cotton candy and hot dogs. But it is also full of risk, and if you don’t know how to manage risk, it can ruin you.

“He was an old man who fished alone in a skiff in the Gulf Stream and he had gone eighty-four days now without taking a fish. In the first forty days a boy had been with him. But after forty days without a fish the boy’s parents had told him that the old man was now definitely and finally salao, which is the worst form of unlucky, and the boy had gone at their orders in another boat which caught three good fish the first week.”

At what point does Jeff Bezos say he has enough money, or Tiger Woods enough wins, or Jay Leno enough cars? Or at what point does the power-hungry politician or preacher say he has enough power?

I once read that home is the place where we are treated the best, but grumble the most. I wonder if the same could be applied to our offices, and what we can do to tone it down.

There are two types of investors, and the way they buy stocks has historically shaped the entire market into two buckets. There are value investors, and growth investors, and right now, growth investors are making the biggest moves.

Before our great country can have peace, it must have an agreement on truth—about what’s really true about everything. But that’s not going to happen unless we stop throwing our sucker in the dirt and all start using our words.

Tonight we are hosting a boxing match between two words. Both are heavyweights, but one is a youngster and one an old-timer. The arena is packed with blood-thirsty fans. Who will win?

This is not a political column, and the businesses of Valdosta don’t get paid for their political acumen. But we can’t just act like the last twelve weeks didn’t happen.

People are saying we have to embrace a “new normal,” crying out that the coronavirus has changed us—forever. That’s the story, and you’re dumb, or evil, or both if you don’t buy it.

But is it true?

The story of Cinderella is about one quote: “Just because it’s what’s always been done doesn’t mean it’s what should be done.”

Now more than ever, it’s time we take that seriously.

In the 2015 Spielberg film “Bridge of Spies”, Tom Hanks, playing US attorney James Donovan, represents convicted KGB spy Rudolf Abel, who is on trial as a Russian spy during the Cold War. Abel is as peaceful as a South Georgia pond during the trial, so Tom Hanks looks over at him and says, “Do you ever worry?” Abel replies, with absolute conviction, “Would it help?”

The neighbors are walking, and they never walk. They got an inflatable pool and are outside in lawn chairs, and they’re never outside. The yard is manicured and the bushes are well-shaped, and the house is pressure washed—even the driveway. There is a newness in the air.

What we want more than anything isn’t success, it’s significance. Because you can have it all and still have nothing.

The problem is Corona has thrown off our rhythm and stalled our momentum.

It’s time we got it back.

You don’t get the chance to write about epidemics every day, and you don’t get weeks and weeks “off” work to contemplate this Truth every year. It’s rare that the entire country virtually shuts down and we crash internet servers looking for things to do.

The Christian story of the world goes together—it starts with a single, all-powerful God creating a perfect world, and ends with the same God redeeming and re-creating the world, this time unto eternal perfection. It’s a U-shaped narrative beginning happy and perfect and ending happy and perfect: everything in between is the drama that God intended to unfold in order to show his Glory.

It is too soon to make any pronouncements, too soon to call this economic decade lost, this generation halted, but it’s safe to say the roaring 2020s have become a trickle.

Wednesday, February 26, 2020, the season of Lent began, bringing the novel coronavirus 19 outbreak with it. This is no coincidence.

When I was a kid I sat down criss-cross-apple-sauce on the grass in the backyard under the pecan tree and built little huts and villages out of grass clippings and pecans. My world was alive with wonder and adventure, and it didn’t matter that the wind would blow them away tomorrow.