My son, Austin, has been one of my best teachers lately, particularly in the area of “the wisdom to know the difference.” He has been attending AA and NA meetings regularly for many months. In each of those meetings the Serenity Prayer is plastered on the wall, it is recited as a group, and it underlies everything they talk about as they tell their own stories.

Consequently, on more than one occasion, as I have been complaining about something or someone, Austin will say, “Dad, you gotta let that go.”

“Yeah, but…”

“You gotta let that go.”

“You don’t understand. I just…”

“You gotta let that go.”

I hate it when he is wiser than I am. Actually, I love it that he is wiser than I am on such things. The wisdom to know the difference saves his life every day, figuratively and literally.

It only takes a short conversation with him about the situation in order for me to see more clearly what is and is not within my control. A big part of wisdom is figuring out which problems are mine to solve and which ones to let go.

worryMuch of the time I am trying operate outside my control. I’m trying to solve problems that are not mine to solve. If I’m not actively trying to solve them, I am at least fretting over them as if fretting were a reasonable substitute for action. This is a cause of much of my needless suffering.

Out of curiosity I just looked up the word “fret.” The common definition is to worry, be vexed or agitated about something. That one I understand. Another definition is to wear away, to corrode, to chafe; the way acid can fret metal, or a river frets the rocks, or a harness frets the horse’s neck.

Both are true for me. The worrying kind of fretting is what I do on a daily basis. The wearing away is what the worry does to my spirit over time.

Too often, if I can’t act, I fret. Perhaps Lent can be for me a time to see clearly when I need to act and when I need to be still, rather than fret.