Donald Miller told a story about a guy who taught at a high school in West Texas.

He had grown up in that town and went to that school. He knew this guy.

The guy passed away.

When Miller found out, he dropped what he was doing to fly to West Texas for the funeral to deliver the eulogy.

Two days before, he got a call. They needed to move to a slightly larger venue.

One day before, he got another call. They had to move to an even larger venue.

They ended up needing to have this guy’s funeral at the local baseball stadium.

Over a thousand people came to this guy’s funeral. He wasn’t famous. But he had impact.

I’ve been fascinated by this story for years. It’s led me to hone in on a single metric for measuring my life - the number of people who’d be at my funeral.

I know. Morbid. But it’s an interesting metric. Because it forces you to ask the question, “What kind of impact would I need to make on someone’s life for them to drop what they’re doing and fly across the country to be at my funeral?”

What kind of relationship would I need to have with my neighbors who move away?

With my employees or coworkers who move on to other jobs?

To students who took a class?

What if I were to start doing those things now? Would I start living a more fulfilling life now?