Dear Discernment

Dear Discernment, Holy moly Fatherhood's coming at me fast and my wife and I haven't even looked up one of those 8 hour classes the hospital should call, Keep your Baby Alive, 101. But this isn't a letter about whether to buy the trash can with a mechanical scent spray for dirty diapers. Yuck, maybe it is worth the $100? Since I am not technically a father yet, I’m actually writing today’s letter as a son. My dad turned 86 last week. He's got two bum knees, flat feet and curled toes. We worry he's gonna fall down, hit his head and go caput. I talk to him a lot about how death is inevitable and how he's in bonus time compared to the average American man. He's a trial attorney by profession although he reminds me that he can't give legal advice as he's retired but he still thinks, acts and talks like he could get in front of 12 angry men (and women). His life lessons typically come on yellow legal pads in story or letter format. Over the years they arrive in my mailbox as photocopies, as I'm sure he's also sent them to my older brother Ted and my middle brother Zack when he was still doing this earthly life. You, Discernment, are my dad's favorite life advice. He always told me: Pick Two Hills To Die On. "For years I have spoken about decisions as if they were 'a hill worth dying on,'" my dad says. "It is useful on small decisions like whether I continue to drink diet pop to which I am happily addicted or die on the hill of giving it up. I take the easy route and continue to drink diet pop." My dad tells me that picking two hills to die on also works for the big stuff. You know, kids and marriage and career and community, relationships. Some of the thought leaders on the internet tell us what we want or need to hear. That we can have it all, or that we can't. That something can be cheap and fast, or it can be slow and good. Discernment, you're like Wisdom's life coach because even wisdom needs someone to step back and say, "Not quite.” Picking Two Hills to Die On is just my dad's way of saying hey, you're gonna have a lot of choices, but if you're trying to win every battle on every hill in your life, you're probably going to lose a lot of 'em. So what hills are you going to die on, dear reader? My dad would probably slide a yellow legal pad across the table right now and say, write it down. So here's what I want you to do. Grab whatever's nearby: a napkin, the back of a receipt, your Notes app. Write down the five things you're fighting hardest for right now. The stuff keeping you up, the stuff you're grinding on, the stuff you'd defend to anyone who questioned it. Now cross out three. I know. It hurts. But the two that survive? Those are your hills. The other three aren't gone forever. They're just not worth dying for. Some of those three you cross out might be diet pop hills. The things you know you probably should change but you just don't want to. That's fine. My dad's 86 and still drinking his diet pop. Not every battle needs a hero. Save that for the two that do. Write your future, Robert PSS: Want to forward or share this story to someone who might need it? Use the same link: https://stories.dearworld.com/book/dear-discernment