Two weeks ago, I made a quick trip to California.

I got off the plane, headed straight to my mom’s house, picked her up, and off we went to lunch at In-N-Out Burger.

The temperature was 79 degrees and there was no humidity. I had almost forgotten such a thing existed.

My father-in-law also arranged for me to play pickleball with his group, and playing in 79-degree weather with no humidity is a completely different experience.

You can play for hours without feeling like you’re playing against two opponents: the person on the other side of the net and the weather.

Don’t get me wrong, I love living in Florida, but when you can walk outside in California in August and remain separated from your shirt for a few hours, you can’t help but appreciate it.

I also spent time driving around my old stomping grounds. I lived there for 54 years, so practically every street brought back another memory. Everywhere I went, I seemed to run into someone I’d known for years.

I caught up with family and friends, watched the sunset at the beach, and jumped into the refreshingly cold Pacific Ocean a few times.

It was a great trip. Then came the final day.

The reason I had made the trip in the first place was to attend a friend’s installment service that ran about 15 minutes longer than expected.

Normally, 15 minutes isn’t a big deal, but when you’re more than 50 miles from LAX and already cutting it close to your boarding time…15 minutes suddenly feels like an hour.

I needed to get to the airport, fast, but I also wanted to bring home one of my kids’ favorite treats:

Sidecar Doughnuts.

And not just any Sidecar Doughnuts…their gluten-free chocolate doughnuts.

There was just one problem.

I was already running late, had more than 50 miles to drive, had Los Angeles traffic to fight, and was about to voluntarily add another stop between myself and an airplane that was waiting for me.

This was either going to be a brilliant dad move or the dumbest doughnut decision I’d ever made.

Now, here’s where a responsible adult might say:

“Derek, you’re already running late. Just go to the airport. Don’t miss your flight!”

That would have been excellent advice.

I ignored it.

I called the doughnut shop, paid over the phone, and asked if they could bring the doughnuts out to my car.

So now I’m driving toward LAX like a NASCAR driver who has absolutely no business driving a NASCAR. Every turn mattered. Every lane change mattered.

Every stoplight was either helping me or destroying my chances of making that flight and somewhere in the middle of all this, I thought: “I’m risking missing my flight…for doughnuts.”

I finally pulled into the doughnut shop. There was nowhere to park. I should have expected it being LA. Fortunately, they brought the box right out to my car.

Curbside doughnut service.

A beautiful thing when you’re in a race against the clock. I grabbed the box and headed for the airport and by God’s grace…

I made my flight.

And so did the doughnuts.

When I got home and the kids saw the box, they had absolutely no idea I was bringing them their favorite treat.

They squealed with delight.

And seeing their faces made the entire crazy detour worth it, but the whole experience got me thinking about something I see all the time.

We usually find time for the things that matter most to us.

I was running late, I had 50-plus miles to drive, I had Los Angeles traffic to fight, I had a flight waiting for me and yet somehow…

I found the time for doughnuts.

Why?

Because they were important to me.

Now, I’m not suggesting doughnuts should become a high health priority, but the lesson goes far beyond doughnuts or even health.

We often say, “I don’t have time.” and sometimes that’s absolutely true.

Life gets busy.

There are jobs, families, appointments, deadlines, responsibilities, and unexpected problems, but sometimes…

“I don’t have time” really means “this isn’t important enough yet.”

Because we make time for the things we decide matter.

We rearrange the schedule, we get up earlier, we stay up later, we make the extra trip, we take the detour.

At some point, you have to decide:

“This matters enough that I’m going to make time for it.”

Maybe it’s spending more time with your family or pursuing something you’ve always wanted to do or reconnecting with an old friend or taking care of your health or serving someone who needs you or simply slowing down long enough to enjoy the life you’ve been so busy trying to manage.

The truth is, we don’t always get more time.

We just get to decide what we’re going to do with the time we have.

So the next time you catch yourself saying, “I don’t have time,” maybe stop and ask:

“Is this really about time…or is it about priority?”

Because apparently, when something matters enough to me I can find time for it, even when I’m already late for a flight and apparently, sometimes that thing is doughnuts.

Have a wonderful weekend!

Dr. Derek “I Have My Priorities Straight-ish” Taylor