Control. . .

Dear Noah,


I fully plan to live to one hundred and ten years of age.  I also plan to play basketball with you until I'm ninety-seven and beat you until I'm at least eighty.  Having said that, none of us are promised tomorrow.   There is a great deal I want to share with you and while I plan to present it to you in person, I want to ensure you hear it.    The following was more eloquently and succinctly captured by Ronald Niebuhr in The Serenity Prayer, but is an area I have been wrestling with lately.


One of the greatest battles is first, learning to distinguish between what we can control and what we cannot, and then disciplining ourselves to place on our energy on the former as opposed to the latter.   While exerting energy trying to change what we cannot control can lead to bitterness and disillusionment, it is not here that I want to focus.  It is rather on the fatalism and feelings of victimization that can occur when we don't place our efforts on what we can impact.


I have realized that a great deal of my anger and frustration with "unforeseen circumstances", while it has a valid component, is often a deflection from areas I simply had not acted on.  Financial hardships out of your control will come, but it doesn't change the fact that you can control your spending, budget and accountability presently.  Situations will arise that demand your time, often when you feel there is none to give.  That doesn't change the reality of how you budget your time presently.  Often the frustration with what we can't control is directly related to how little we have done to take responsibility for what we could have controlled.   There are various other areas that range from your health to relationships that follow a similar template.


You had your first voting experience yesterday by going to the polls with me.  (You helped by doing your best to bring down the privacy partition.)  You also assisted me in washing cans of V-8 for the first time by adding them to the laundry.  (I forgot you had been transferring them to the washing machine when I started the load later.)


You continue to add new words every day and your Mom and I are often overwhelmed by just how adorable you are.  You go down the small slide at the mall repeatedly now.  You also pushed a small "toy vehicle" part way up our hill two days ago, got on and then rode down.  (With me hovering very close.)  You have a "boo-boo" on your toe that has been there for approximately six weeks.  It apparently hurts every time you have done something wrong or hear our "stern voice".  You help point it out by whimpering, touching it and raising your foot into the hair.


As I write this, you are pushing around a laundry basket and collecting different items along the way.


Love,
Dad