Sometimes we get so wrapped up in our daily activities and plans that we can easily miss the really important things.  I almost missed something really important this weekend.  Lucky for me, I didn’t.

For some crazy reason, my 18-year old daughter came up with the idea that she wanted to jump out of a perfectly good airplane.  Now, I did a lot of crazy things when I was her age, but throwing myself out of a plane at 15,000 feet wasn’t one of them.  But she insisted.  She’s old enough to make her own decisions and my job now is to provide the best guidance I can.  I tried to influence her decision by telling her that I wouldn’t help her pay for it…it had to be her own money.  It didn’t work.  She was going to jump.

I struggled a bit while deciding whether to go.  While I wasn’t thrilled with the idea of seeing her fall from the sky, I wanted to be a part of the experience with her.  It didn’t help when she planned her jump on a day that was already packed with other commitments on my calendar.  I had a race to cover for the runner’s newsletter, my wife and I had a Special Olympics practice to coach and, to top it off, I was leaving on a long drive to Atlanta.

When she told me that she had to be at the jump facility at 11am to attend the 45-minute pre-jump lesson, I assumed I could be there to watch her jump and be on the road by 12:30 or so.  I got to the airport at 11:30 to learn that she was just going through the registration process and she wouldn’t be jumping for another hour and a half.  Delay #1.  We fought a wave of lovebugs outside the hangar as we waited.  More fun.  And then some clouds rolled in, so jumps scheduled earlier than hers started backing up.  Delay#2.  When the clouds finally cleared and the flights resumed, we were told it would be another ninety minutes before her jump!

All that initially came to my mind was that it was now going to be three more hours of nighttime driving than I had planned.  I decided that I needed to hit the road.  I told her I was sorry, but that I needed to get going.  I’m pretty sure I saw a look of disappointment from her, but she hid it well and seemed to understand.  She even gave me a hug goodbye.  I went out and started my car.  But I couldn’t drive away.  My daughter is getting ready to jump out of an airplane, and I’m worried about driving in the dark? 

I went back to the hangar and, while she did a good job of hiding it again, I think she was happy I was back.  I know I was.  I almost missed being a part of this (hopefully) once-in-a-lifetime experience for her. 

Finally, we learned that her group was next, right after they refueled the plane.  While this was cause for Delay #3, I was ok with them making sure the plane was fueled properly.  The instructors and videographers started getting them ready.  They strapped her into a jump harness and started taking the “before” video.  My anxiety grew.  We took pictures and I gave her a big hug before she boarded. 

While we were waiting, it seemed like the time it took for each jump group ahead of hers was just this side of forever.  Once it was her turn, time sped up.  In minutes, the plane was airborne and out of sight.  Those of us safely on the ground, with loved ones in the air, strained our necks trying to see them the moment they popped through the clouds.  There they were!  And in what seemed like just a few seconds, they were on the ground.  Safe!  And with all body parts intact!

I celebrated with her for too short of a time, gave her a final hug and was finally able to hit the road.  As I drove in the darkness, I mulled over the lesson I learned.  Or maybe I didn’t learn it.  I hope I already knew it, and that I had only forgotten about it for a short time.  Because I was so focused on the details of relatively unimportant stuff, I almost missed a moment that we’ll share forever.

So, why is this article in a “financial” blog?  Because in my financial planning practice, we try to help clients look past the unimportant details, like the short-term movements in the financial markets, and instead, focus on the things that are the most important in their lives. 

My daughter’s smile is one of the most important things in my life.  As she walked out of the landing area, she had one of the biggest and best ones I’ve ever seen.  Priceless.