The secret to life has remained illusive to me thus far.

I'm pretty certain I heard it once at a sermon at University Church at Purdue. Dr. Will Miller was preaching that Sunday and this guy gets you laughing and thinking all at the same time. There was no pencil in the little pencil holder in the hymnal rack that morning. "I should write this down," I remember thinking to myself. I suspect I figured I would retain the secret to life when I heard it. I remember turning to my wife seated next to me and saying: "that's it."

After the last hymn there was the whole thing about where to go for lunch. By the time that lofty decision was made, the secret to life had eluded me. I didn't know it was drifting away at the time, I think I was so content having grasped it. And then like a balloon floating off into a clear blue sky, it lifted higher and higher and was soon out of sight.

Recently my wife heard a story, we think on the radio, an inspiring story about how one man approached each and every life decision.

"I've got to tell you this," she said to me over the phone early in the day.

"Let's talk later," I replied.

It was the end of the day by the time we actually got to talk. Our heads were both on our respective pillows. Our eyelids were heavy. She related the man's story and the vast truth that had inspired her so.

I remember staring up at the ceiling of our bedroom and we both remember my reply.

"That's it, that's incredible," I said, "that is the secret of life."

Morning came and with it came the unspoken contentment between us of this truth shared the night before. Days later though, neither of us could recall the man's inspiring story. We could not recall his reasoning. Ultimately, we could not recall the conclusion - the secret of life. Since then, just about every other day we quiz each other, we try to trigger the story, the conclusion, anything to jog the memory and banish the mental cobwebs.

It has been to no avail.

The other day I passed a sign on a gravel road fronting on a farm. On a plywood square painted in red spray paint was the following: "UPick" Of course the "U" stands for "You" and the pick described your part in the equation of the harvest - getting the fruit or vegetable from the field to your kitchen table.

You pick.

Is this the secret of life? Just two words, one abbreviated at that, and spraypainted on plywood by the side of the road.

A mistake is made. Do you fix it and move on or do you hide it or deny?

You pick.

A good time, a marvelous time, or a contended time in life comes to an end. Do you move forward, or do you stay in regret?

You pick.

You are wronged, you are hurt. Do you assign blame? Do you stay wounded? Or do you forgive, do you let it be?

You pick.

Do you act, or do you react?

You pick.

Laugh or cry? Pull over or keep going? Praise or criticize?

I don't know, but I suspect no matter how funny or sad or unfair or ridiculous the question is, I think the answer is always, always the same. You pick.

And meanwhile, if my memory clears and a secret more inspiring or more clarifying is revealed, well, let's just say my pencil is sharp and close at hand.