The Blogs: The Card I’ve Carried in My Wallet for Years

There is a card in my wallet that has been there for years.

It is nothing fancy.

Just a few words.

On one side:

It’s never too late…

On the other:

It’s later than you think…

I received it in 2014, when I was sitting in Beth Tfiloh Congregration for Yom Kippur Yizkor and Rabbi Mitchell Wohlberg handed these cards out as part of his sermon.

But the story of the card actually went back much further.

During that sermon, Rabbi Wohlberg explained that he had first handed out a version of the card roughly 20 years earlier. He told us that people still came up to him and showed him that they carried it.

I wasn’t there for that first sermon.

But I was there in 2014.

And more than a decade later, I’m one of those people still carrying the card.

As we approach another Jewish New Year, I’ve been thinking about why.

I think that little card has changed my life.

Not because I pull it out every morning and read it. Most of the time, I probably forget it is even there.

But the message has stayed with me.

It’s never too late.

There is incredible optimism in those words.

You can change direction.

You can start something new.

You can repair a relationship.

You can learn something you thought had passed you by.

You can take the trip.

Make the call.

Try something that scares you.

Become a different version of yourself.

We sometimes convince ourselves that we’ve missed our opportunity. We’re too old. Too established. Too busy. Too far down one path to choose another.

The card reminds me that we usually have more possibility in front of us than we think.

But then you turn it over.

It’s later than you think.

Those words hit differently.

Our children get older.

Our parents get older.

We get older.

Another school year begins. Another holiday comes around. Another year somehow disappears.

The things we say we’ll do “someday” don’t come with an unlimited number of somedays.

That’s the struggle I’ve carried around in my wallet all these years.

There is still time.

And time is running out.

Both are true.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about capacity and what it means to create more of it. We talk about saving time at work. We use technology to make things faster. We improve processes so people can accomplish more.

All of that matters.

But the little card in my wallet reminds me of something more fundamental.

We can’t actually create more time.

We can create more capacity within the time we have.

And then we have to decide what deserves it.

That’s a very different question.

As Rosh Hashanah approaches, many of us will think about what we want to do differently in the coming year.

Maybe we’ll exercise more. Learn more. Give more. Work differently. Spend more time with family. Become more patient. Be more present.

I have my own list.

But I’m beginning to think the more important question is what deserves more of the year I already have.

Which relationships deserve more of me?

What have I been putting off?

What am I spending time on that really doesn’t matter?

Who haven’t I called?

What do I still want to try?

What do I need to let go of?

Rabbi Wohlberg’s 2014 sermon eventually turned to his own unusual kind of bucket list. Rather than making a list of everything he still wanted to accomplish, he thought about the things he no longer wanted to waste his time doing.

There is wisdom in that.

A new year naturally makes us think about beginnings.

Maybe it should also make us think about endings.

Things we can stop worrying about.

Grudges we can stop carrying.

Things we don’t need to prove.

Obligations we’ve created for ourselves that no longer deserve the space they occupy.

Because making room for what matters also requires being willing to make less room for what doesn’t.

I received Rabbi Wohlberg’s card on Yom Kippur in 2014. Not long after, I put it in my wallet.

More than a decade later, it’s still there.

Because I still need the reminder.

Because I still need both sides.