I stood at the side of his bed. He didn’t have long to live and he knew it. Hours or days? He wasn’t sure. Soon. And he waxed eloquent about the life he’d lived, the people he’d loved, and the legacy he was leaving. Fast forward a couple years. Similar scene, but a different face in a different hospice bed. This time, though, the reflections were filled with regret. He’d traded hours for dollars, and dollars for inconsequentials. His family was distant, even though they lived in the same city. He knew the plot summaries for every Star Trek episode, but couldn’t remember his grandson’s birthdate. His biggest regret was he’d nearly always taken the paths of least resistance and that had pushed him through a life that went nowhere. “Life didn’t come with an instruction book,” was one of the last things he said to me. But it does. This week, we’ll look at how life is different when we heed the teachings of Life’s Instruction Book.