A few years ago, my wife Kathy and I took a cruise to the great state of Alaska. We traveled with a company called Uncruise, which specializes in small ships and active trips. Part of the daily itinerary was the opportunity to go bushwhacking in the Alaskan forest. We would leave the boat, land on a nearby shoreline, and enter the woods to explore. For about two-and-a-half hours we followed our biologist/guide, creating our own path through the forest by trekking over barely noticeable animal trails, climbing over or under vegetation, and weaving our way around trees and bushes. Kathy and I loved the bushwhacking hikes and participated in at least one each day.

On one of the hikes, two of the ship’s crew joined our group. One was the pastry chef. Now, I don’t know how a pastry chef is trained or how to differentiate one from another. However, I will say this—I went to every meal anticipating this culinary artist’s fresh collection of warm breads, savory pastries, and flavorful muffins. The woman was a master of her craft.

There’s no question my fellow passengers agreed. How do I know? On the day she was with us, we received the customary safety briefing, including what to do if we unexpectedly encountered a grizzly bear during the outing. When the guide was finished, our group spontaneously decided on one nonnegotiable condition— “no matter what happens, the pastry chef makes it out of here alive.” Completing the cruise without her was an unimaginable hardship.

Now, let’s fast forward to earlier this fall. I recently had the privilege of officiating the wedding of one of our nieces. The ceremony was scheduled for 4:00 Saturday afternoon. On the morning of the wedding, my sister-in-law and her daughter, the bride, gave Kathy specific instructions. She was told to “roll up Steve in bubble wrap for the day. This wedding can’t happen without him there.” In relaying the message, Kathy commented, “Hon, today you’re the pastry chef. We have to protect you.”

Because I have a hyperactive brain, I almost immediately launched into a bout of self-reflection. For most of the day, I pondered a simple question. How many times was my presence mandatory for an event to occur? Here’s the list:

• My birth
• The night Kathy and I were engaged
• My wedding
• The celebration of our thirty-eight wedding anniversaries
• My two book launches
• The wedding I officiated

That’s forty-three days. Let’s round to sixty for any I missed. I’ve been alive for over sixty-three years. I’m not going to bother doing the math, but there’s an extremely low percentage of days when my participation was undeniably essential. I realize, of course, there were times it was important to others that I was present, and often I played a critical role in the festivities. But my absence wouldn’t have stopped things from happening. Days as important to me as graduation ceremonies from high school and college, the festivities around my daughter’s wedding, my parent’s funerals, holiday celebrations, all the cool trips Kathy and I have taken (trust me, she’d be going anyways), every single day I spent at work, and the actual birth of my children. All to them would have happened if I was absent.

Now, to the people in my orbit, my presence in their lives matters and they’re usually happy I’m around. As far as my career goes, I’m confident I made significant contributions in the various roles I filled. However, if I wasn’t there, they would have found someone else to do the job. It’s truly fascinating how infrequently I was indispensable. Maybe I should slow down, cherish the moments I have, and dial things back when I’m feeling self-important. The world will keep turning.

How about you? Have you ever been the pastry chef, vital enough that a group of strangers would agree to form a circle and protect you when a 500-pound bear attacked? I hope so. If not, though, I wouldn’t worry about it. Apparently, those days are rarer than we think.

Steven Rogers’ is the author or the award-winning novel “Into the Room” and its sequel, “A Year in the Room.” To order a copy, please visit Amazon or his website:  steven-rogers.com

November News from Steve

My second novel, A Year in the Room, was launched on November 12th! The book continues the story of Ben Cahill from Into the Room, as he works on his recovery and strives to put his life back together. In addition, Ben travels to the legendary Scottish Island of Iona on an unexpected pilgrimage. One Amazon reviewer wrote this— “Rogers has written a compelling story about a man struggling with alcoholism… I laughed and cried while reading this book.” A Year in the Room is available on Amazon (https://amzn.to/4elNi7P) or though my website at steven-rogers.com.

A Year in the Room and Into the Room make excellent and affordable Christmas presents. I will deliver autographed copies in the Richmond area or ship them to you wherever you are. If you’re interested, contact me through my website, steven-rogers.com.

I love speaking to book clubs, civic organizations, Bible studies, at churches, and to any type of community gathering. If you’re interested in having me as a speaker, please contact me through my website, steven-rogers.com.

My next speaking engagement is at the Advent Potluck Dinner at Christ Church Episcopal in Glen Allen, Virginia on Wednesday, December 11^th. The event begins at 6:00 pm. All are welcome.

A special thanks to the John Reid show on WRVA in Richmond, Virginia. John recently interviewed me about A Year in the Room and my writing journey.

If you enjoy my columns and don’t want to miss one, please subscribe by filling out the “Follow Steve” block on my website: steven-rogers.com.

Book of the Month

I recently read a gem of a book called Leora’s Dexter Stories by Joy Neal Kidney. In the book, Joy tells us about living through the 1930’s in rural Iowa. Her quick hitting, no nonsense style paints a picture of love, resilience, and persistence during the Great Depression. More importantly, the reader gets to know the Wilson family, a captivating collection of intelligent, hardworking individuals doing their best through rough times.

The book offers a refreshing and humbling perspective on life “back in the day,” including the men in the family hunting for meat, Leora canning vegetables and fruits for months on end, and the grief of losing family members to illnesses that are treatable in today’s world. Perhaps the most telling part of the whole book is Joy’s description of her grandmother Leora— “She was an uncomplicated woman with straightforward goals. A home of their own, surrounded by family, and high school diplomas for her family. She was determined to do the hard work to accomplish her mission.” I mean, who doesn’t want to read about someone like that?

Thank you for reading!