“We are merely jars of clay” is #58 out of 65

Like never before, I see that physically, we are jars of clay. Yes, with all the shockingly strong aspects of clay, and the stunningly fragile aspects of clay. Age will show that to you.

58. Physically, we are jars of clay. That’s the metaphor the Bible uses.

Turning 65 shone a light on this truth. Over the past six months, Joyce and I have had (or still have) a torn meniscus, sprained knee, tweaked ankle, a severe head cold, sciatica, and a bum wrist. What? Are you kidding me?!? And all around the time of this birthday.

One morning we woke up and looked at each other, her hobbling around and me blowing my nose like a leaf blower, and just stared in disbelief … how did this happen? Just a couple months ago we were skipping around the pickleball court like youngsters and now we look like we should be viewing cemetery plots.

We believe that this is just a season and it, too, will pass. Things are already on the mend.

But it did remind me that we truly are jars of clay.

Clay vessels are incredibly durable, lasting thousands of years (as witnessed in archeological finds). And when properly formed and fired, they can withstand enormous pressure when the force is distributed evenly, holding their form against massively heavy contents, and enduring extreme temperatures.

This is us. This is the human body. Incredibly resilient.

Yet a small crack in the clay—a precise tap in just the right spot—can shatter it completely.

So, too, with the human body. A microscopic bug, a badgering resentment, or a tweak of a tiny ligament can reduce us to almost nothing.

My take-home is this: This is just humbling, doggonit! Health is humbling. And what’s most humbling is the precariousness of it … the lack of control we have.

BUT, I will tell you this: This lack of control puts me in right relationship with God and right relationship with life.

I actually love the paradox of incredible strength and frightening vulnerability.

59. Don’t complete long surveys from businesses. Does that not annoy the heck out of you to get a survey that is 30 questions long, asking you what you thought of everything from the drapes in the lobby to the promptness of the elevator? Are you kidding me! I’ve gotten to the point where even if I love the business, I refuse to partake.

60. Parent with this book in mind: “Hard America Soft America.” Michael Barone makes a fascinating point in his book—that America seems to produce relatively incompetent eighteen-year-olds but remarkably competent thirty-year-olds.

I agree.

And I agree with why he believes it to be true: from ages six to eighteen, Americans live mostly in Soft America—namely soft schools and soft homes. But from ages eighteen to thirty they live mostly in Hard America—the work world of merit, competition, and accountability. Thus, America remains on the leading edge economically, scientifically, technologically, and militarily.

It's a thought-provoking idea that can inform your parenting and your outlook on America.

61. But don’t be too tough on your kids. I was too strict and I regret it. I disciplined more than I should have. I controlled too much. If I could do it over, I’d pull back a bit.

And definitely don’t be too tough on your teens. At the time in parenting when it’s hardest not to crack down—don’t crack down. Chill out a little. The sky is not falling. They are not going to be the next Charles Manson.

Value conversation over domination.

Don’t let others pressure you to parent in a way that violates your gut. No matter how good they are at parenting or how perfect their kids turned out … you know your kid like no one else. And, when all the words have been spoken and advice given and scriptures pontificated, you are the one left in your house with your kid on a Monday morning. So make sure you handle things as YOU want them handled.

I didn’t do this (as you can tell) and I regret it. It’s one of the biggest regrets in my life. I wished I’d evolved as they hit the teen years. I wish I’d listened more and drawn fewer lines. I’m lucky it didn’t sour our adult relationships.

62. Don’t overthink parenting. You control a lot, yes. You influence a lot, yes. But your kid is a person and you are here to usher him into the adulthood of his choosing. As hard as it is, don’t think of her as an extension of yourself.

63. Follow your gut in parenting. Don’t over-value advice and “best-practices” and worldly-wise wisdom. You know your kid. You love your kid. God has instilled inside of you what it takes to be a good parent—so listen to it, hear that inner voice, trust your instinct, lean into your common sense, and know that his Spirit will lead your spirit.

64. Enjoy the golden years: ages 9-12. It’s an idyllic time, and fun and beautiful and innocent and the perfect entrée to the teen anti-golden-years. These years are a brief moment in life when they are old enough to be humans but not old enough to be jaded. Think Ralphie on “A Christmas Story.”

I loved this time in my kid’s lives. And I loved this time in my life. At the time, I lived at 213 Naples Drive in Fort Ord, California with a dog named Snoopy. Come on …! Does it get any more Ralphie than that?

65. Oh … and one last thing … Don’t Stop Believin’. Hold onto that feelin’.

So, there you have it … 65 things I’ve learned in 65 years.