The message is clear, regardless what the message is.

It doesn’t really matter what they’re selling. Good, bad or otherwise, advertisers all have one goal…to get you to believe that you’re not good enough as you are. Because if they succeed, then maybe you’ll get the idea that what they’re selling will fix you up proper.

But this isn’t a rant about advertising.

It’s a story about my son.

“Dad, can you remind me to ask my teacher about the classwork I missed?”

It’s 4am and that was, roughly, the 10th time he’s asked me the very same question.

“Yes honey, I told you I would. Now you need to trust what I’ve said and we all need to get some sleep.”

I know that logic doesn’t have much to do with his anxiety, but I try to reason with him anyway. Old habits die hard.

“Okay Daddy. I love you.”

“I love you too baby.

It sounds final, but I know better.

“But Dad, will you walk me to my class tomorrow morning?”

“Yes Charlie, I will.”

“Thank you Daddy. I love you.”

“I love you too buddy.”

I’ve become more patient. Not just with Charlie, but with the expectation that things ought to unfold in just a certain way. Life has never been more uncertain in our small family. Having patience with outcomes, it turns out, is the best of the alternatives.

This familiar discussion continues, many questions answered in triplicate. Many answered more. Each followed by the reassurance that love reiterated provides.

It doesn’t, as you might expect, end by way of our relinquishing to sleep. Pure exhaustion is no match for the anxious mind of an 8 year old.

What develops instead is surprising indeed.

Not the tears from Charlie, laying at my side, as he hears the inevitable frustration in my voice. Nor his heartbreaking and heartfelt pleas to understand what’s happening to him. These, I’m sorry to say, have become as familiar as his questions.

A discussion follows that I wasn’t expecting.

Through sobs he says,

“I just want to be homeschooled or move back to Colorado and go to my old school. I hate this school. It’s so hard.”

“Charlie, that’s not exactly true. School is no harder than at your old school, and you’re excelling despite how much you worry.”

“But it’s different. The teachers were nice at my old school and I had friends. I didn’t have any problems at all. I just need to get back there.”

” I know that’s how it seems right now, but we need to be careful not to assume that a change in something outside of us will change how we feel inside. If you had a pocketful of rotten fish, would moving to Colorado change how bad they smell?”

“No.”

“That’s because it’s the fish that are the problem. Not where we’re standing at that moment. If we want to get rid of that smell, we’ve gotta ditch the fish.”

Silence for the first time in an hour.

“Honey, I know what you’re feeling inside is hard, and a little scary. And I know that it feels overwhelming. But that doesn’t mean it can’t change. And when we start to feel this way, looking for an easy solution is what most people do. Because we’ve gotten into a habit. Not just you, but all of us, everyone. We have these habits of behavior that we’ve stopped believing can change, and when we don’t feel we can change, we try to change something else, hoping it will fix the problem.”

A lump formed in my throat and I had to take a deep breath before continuing.

“But here’s the deal. It doesn’t. The only thing that fixes the problem is fixing what’s really broke. And that happens inside. But yes, it’s hard. If there was a thousand pound boulder rolling down a mountain, changing it’s course would be hard. There’s so much momentum built up and it’s an amazing amount of force that would be needed to turn that thing even a little bit. And thinking about working that hard makes us cringe a little. That’s a lot of effort, and it doesn’t seem anywhere near as easy as just letting it roll. And then there’s the uncertainty of it. What if we did manage to change its course and it ran into a house or over a car? What if we work that hard and something bad happens? That’s the kind of thinking that keeps most people from making important changes.”

I started thinking about that boulder as my own. Like I’d been sitting idle, watching the boulder of my ingrained patterns and behaviors roll on by, wreaking havoc in a very predictable way. I started thinking about the habit so many of us have, certainly the one I have, of looking outside myself for answers. And about my propensity to believe I’m in need of answers in the first place. Which is to say, to believe I’m not good enough as I am.

“But guess what? Something good might happen instead. That boulder may roll into a nice flat grassy meadow and come to a stop in the most beautiful place on earth. But we won’t know it until we try, until we make that effort.”

I had the most amazing sensation just then. Like I could actually imagine that being true. That it wasn’t just talk, but rather the culmination of years of living, myriad experiences, finally revealing truth in the most unlikely manner.

“Charlie, I know this is hard for you right now. But if you let it go, if you let it keep rolling, and if you look for another mountain for it to roll down, nothing but the scenery will change. And the scenery doesn’t matter. What matters is the boulder, and the the course. “

My own tears had begun to flow by then, and for a moment I wondered who I was talking to. I mean, I was talking to Charlie, sure. But we were both listening. We both needed to hear it.

Maybe you need to hear it, too.

Maybe we would all do well to remember that despite growing up in the age of television, despite being barraged by messages which promise the world if only we’ll go to the mall and consume. Despite coming up at a time when our inherent value as individuals was incongruous with that which seemed to be valued collectively, we’ve got everything we need to be the people the world needs us to be.

No matter the magnitude of your worries, you are the solution.

…”Daddy?”

“Yes Charlie.”

“Thank you for talking to me.”

“You’re welcome baby…and thank you.”